And I Am Grateful

A field of wheat cloaked in dewy silence the orchestra tunes up with avian arias bullfrog basses and a choir of cawing crows, xanthic sunflowers turning their heads to better see, the daylight trajectory commencing with lazuline layering, a breeze glissandoes on harps of oak leaves tomorrow is now today, and I am grateful. An officer of the law taps on my door my breath and heartbeat screech to a sudden stop preparing for the next-of-kin speech, or where-were-you-on-the-night-of-the-23rd interrogation, instead she informs me my car is ten inches in the red and with a smile suggests I move it before I get a citation pulse resumes as oxygen reunites with lungs, and I am grateful. A mask sitting by the front door; my ticket to commerce the media replaying riot scenes, lockdown measures, sporting event cancellations, worship restrictions, death tolls, closed restaurants, and drive-by graduations. Yet I am virus-free, housed, gainfully employed, surrounded by family and electronically socialized, I have my necessities: I am well-fed, well-loved, and I am grateful. written 30 Aug 2020