Giving Thanks This Glorious Gray Morning

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.