Gratitude can turn a meal into a feast.
The sunlight on the garden
Hardens and grows cold,
We cannot cage the minute
Within its nets of gold;
When all is told
We cannot beg for pardon.
Our freedom as free lances
Advances towards its end;
The earth compels, upon it
Sonnets and birds descend;
And soon, my friend,
We shall have no time for dances.
The sky was good for flying
Defying the church bells
And every evil iron
Siren and what it tells:
The earth compels,
We are dying, Egypt, dying
And not expecting pardon,
Hardened in heart anew,
But glad to have sat under
Thunder and rain with you,
And grateful too
For sunlight on the garden.
– Louis MacNeice
Just Be Glad
O heart of mine, we shouldn’t Worry so!
What we’ve missed of calm we couldn’t Have, you know!
What we’ve met of stormy pain, And of sorrow’s driving rain, We can better meet again,
If it blow!
We have erred in that dark hour We have known,
When our tears fell with the shower, All alone!—
Were not shine and shower blent As the gracious Master meant?— Let us temper our content
With His own.
For, we know, not every morrow Can be sad;
So, forgetting all the sorrow We have had,
Let us fold away our fears,
And put by our foolish tears, And through all the coming years
Just be glad.
James Whitcomb Riley.
GLORY be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim:
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and
And àll tràdes, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
It’s Sunday. I went for a long walk in a nearby park. A walking, jogging, bike riding paved trail runs through miles of south Texas landscape. The former ranch is now covered with prickly pear cactus, yucca, cedar trees, and live oak trees. A sign at the trail head warns travelers to watch out for mountain lions, feral hogs, rattlesnakes, coyotes, and dangerous insects. The warning does not stop people from using the trail.
At the midpoint of my walk, I spotted a father and his two children, one boy, one girl stooping near the edge of the trail. Their three bicycles lay nearby just off the path. The children appeared to be between eight to ten years old. The boy was the younger child.
As I approached them, the boy turned and looked up at me. He said, “This baby bird is hurt. Do you know how to help him?”
The boy’s father and his sister looked at me. In front of the small boy was an open water bottle and straw. He was using the straw to transfer water from his bottle to the bird’s mouth. I told them them they were doing the best they could and making the baby bird feel comfortable.
I walked on filled with renewed hope for the future. When young children care deeply for the environment and its living creatures, there is hope for the future. I promised myself to learn from them and practice the lessons they taught me.