On this autumnal equinox
in a pandemic of global proportions
in an election year hampered by bots and trolls
in a hurricane season spinning past the alphabet
in a country, state, city of unrest and hateful acts
I am witness to kindness and understanding
I am safe in a house with a solid roof
I am registered to vote, and information literate
I am cared for by family and employers
***
On this autumnal equinox
coffee in hand
sounds of rainfall
meditative breaths
thankful for small favors.
Beautiful poem, Chris.
ReplyDeleteWe all need to slow down to give thanks. Today, as the season changes, is the perfect time to do just that!
I'm glad the quiet gratitude came through, Stacey; it was exactly what I was feeling that morning.
DeleteIn this beautiful breath of a poem, Chris, lies deep discernment. Unless we take the pauses, we often cannot grasp it. The world rages on, within and without ... much of it our of our control, but not all. Individual decisions, like drops of rain, add up. On this autumnal equinox I drink in this layered moment of quiet gratitude. Thank you, Chris.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your kind observations, Fran! Yes, it is important to remember what we have control of, what we focus on, if only for our own mental health. Quiet mornings with coffee in hand help, too.
DeleteLove this! Fall Equinox...it is refreshing in so many ways. Time to breathe in the clean air, clear my mind of all the chaos, and reboot.
ReplyDeleteIt is my favorite season-turning, to be sure. Now if only the mosquitoes would follow suit, and leave with the triple digit temperatures....
DeleteYour life is a beautiful contrast to what exists in many parts of our world, Chris.
ReplyDeleteYou expressed some things you know about yourself in a way that really encouraged me.
Thank you.
Laure
I am profoundly grateful for the blessings in my life, Laure! Happy autumn!
DeleteThank you for helping me to slow down a bit and appreciate the small things - such as today being the first day of fall. Wonderful poem!
ReplyDeleteThank you! The quiet of the morning was not suited for the clattering keys of a prose piece, I think.
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