Published in
Long Field Hollow
Praise Song
Praise for the morning fog creeping up the cove.
Praise for it seeping in the window. Praise
for my wife’s warm body lying next to mine,
her damp curls tickling my spine. Praise for
hot coffee, flush toilets. For the thrush
singing my morning devotional as I walk
through wet grass in old boots. Praise for
email friends, phone messages. Praise that
my computer works, joints aren’t inflamed,
I am not sick in bed another day. Praise
for every day I am up doing, thinking, creating.
Able to sit, or walk on my own two feet,
and smell the glorious air.
Published In
Long Field Hallow
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