GRATITUDE WITHOUT END

I wake to breathe, to air clean enough to fill my lungs,

to silence, the kind that is not empty but whole,

where the wind hums, where a bird’s song waits to be heard.

I open my eyes, light spills in, shapes unfold,

colors exist because I can see them.

Taste lingers, the sharpness of citrus, the warmth of spice,

the sweetness that reminds me I am alive.

I speak, and my voice carries.

I listen, and the world speaks back.

Wisdom arrives in quiet moments,

Understanding follows, sometimes slowly, sometimes suddenly.

Sanity, intelligence, good health.

The foundations beneath my feet.

Food, clothing, the small things I use daily

without thinking, yet I know they matter.

I am held in love.

By those who cherish me, by those I adore.

By hands that care for my needs,

by kindness, by forgiveness, by the soft places in the hearts of others.

And then, there is nature.

The way rain knows when to fall,

the river that does not question where it flows,

the sun that burns, the moon that listens,

and the trees that do not rush their growing.

Gratitude is not just for the grand,

but for the horse by the roadside, nodding as I pass,

for the single bird that pauses at my window,

for my rose cuttings, so small, so determined,

for a snowflake landing on my nose,

brief, perfect, gone.

There is too much to name,

too much to write,

but still, I hold it all,

still, I give thanks.