Giving thanks
I woke early this morning
and the internet was down
and the cat was hungry
and the floor was gritty
with litter and the glass
of water I left on the counter
was cloudy and surrounded
by a puddle and paw prints
and finally, when I had a moment
that first pot of coffee
poured in my cup was full
of grounds because I forgot the filter
And yet I give thanks
for the dampness of air and gray
morning light and the squirrels
asking for peanuts
even though I told them yesterday
I was out and then
my walk
in the quiet just beyond dawn
and the phone that kept ringing
and never anyone
I knew
would call before 8 which is something
the phone itself seemed to know
because it kept announcing
each call with the words: Scam Likely
and so each time I answered, asking
Hello, is this a scam
Sadly
I was never surprised
No one answered Yes
Mostly they hung up
for which I am only partially thankful
But, on my way home
the gray lifting from the air
I saw an old woman walking
delicately cautiously
as if she were crossing something
precarious or shifting
And raising a finger to her lips
she pointed
to something large stirring
by the curb
a great oval of black
bobbing its arcing neck
toward the concrete
as if in prayer
as if giving thanks
before tugging at the tangled strands of something
mounded in the street
It stopped
at my approach
to look at me and squawk
The woman raised her hand
We stopped
all three of us to watch
each other
All of us
unexpected
A buzzard an old woman
and me (as old as I can be)
And each of us set
to protect this moment
The vulture tugged
at the possum’s root-like tail
anxious to protect
its meal
The old woman
her phone out now
anxious to protect
her shot
and me stirred to silence
and anxious to see
This strangeness come to be
an arc of bird
tugging at tendrils
pulling at the tail of the lifeless mess
trying to find a moment’s peace
with its morning feast
until my phone
again
startled us with its scam
likely to send
wings impossibly wide
opening into air
and gasps as we turned to watch
such grace ascending
We stood there
joined by a car stopped in the street
and head hanging out asking
Did you see that
And we did and we did
not know what else to say
Until it was gone
high into the trees and somewhere
beyond and we shook
our heads and laughed
And headed home
in search of something
we knew could only be
less than what
we now knew this day
to be
And so in quiet gratitude
I whisper
thanks for the hunger
that drives me out into the day
and thanks for the woman
with the delicate step
and thanks
for the bird and even
the possum who became
the feast for one (to share with all) this day
But I think I might
forget that phone at home
next time.
