Tuesday ~ May 29, 2018

But no matter how short, our lives have been blessed.
We live in a land without famine or war,
each night we smooth down into the grace of sheets.
How we forget to be grateful.
In the morning we will have fresh fruit,
and music and news.
Roses will scent the air.
And all that we have forgotten,
the mockingbird will repeat
into small green spaces
of our still unripened hearts.

(Barbara Crooker, b. 1945)