balletvickie的部落格

   GIVING   THANKS  

"Thank you, Mother Earth.
 Thank you, Father Sky.
 Thank you for this day."
 This is what my father says,
 every morning,
 standing in the field
 near our house.

Like his India friend-
singers and storytellers-
Dad believes that the things of nature
are a gift. And that in return,
we must give something back.
We must give thanks.

He gives thanks
to the frogs and crickets
singing down by the creek-
and to all the tiny beings
with six or eight legs,
weaving their tiny stories
close to the earth.

He says "Thank you"
to chanterelles,
the wild mushrooms that smell
like pumpkins.

He says "Thank you"
to the trees
that wave their arms
and spin their leaves
in the breeze.

He says, "Thank you,
Fox, "at a glimpse
in the tall grass-
the pointy ears, the bushy ears,
the bushy tail
dancing.

He says "Thank you"
to the deer
who have passed this way,
their tracks like two fingers
pressed in the dirt,
pointing toward water.

He gives thanks
to the quail
who flare up and scatter
and rejoin.

He says, "Thank you,
Jackrabbit, " as it zigs
and zags and jumps in leaps
twenty-five feet
through the air,
racing a shadow.

He says, "Thank you,
Hawk," as it circles
hight in the sky
and cries scree! scree!
before it dives.

He says, "Thank you,
Grandfather Sun,"
as it begins to sink
beyond the hills.
"Thank you for this day."

And he says, "Thank you,
Grandmother Moon,
for coming this way."

To me, it's a little
embarrassing
to say thanks
to trees and things.
But Dad says it becomes a habit;
it makes you feel good.

"Thank you, stars," I say
as we near home.
And the stars come out,
one by one,
as if from hiding.  
  by-Jonathan London