Exhaust the little moment. Soon it dies.
And be it gash or gold, it will not come
Again in this identical disguise.”
~Gwendolyn Brooks
gratitude, yes,
for all the big things
that stand tall,
thick with abundance,
joy, fruitfulness.
I cannot help
but applaud
their presence.
but deep thankfulness
for the bite-sized
pieces of my life?
I had not thought of them,
those little snippets of time
so easily consumed
in the hurry and blur
of pretentious days.
the little moments,
assumed and presumed,
slip quickly through
the fingers of my busy life.
November gestures
with a wrinkled brown hand,
beckons me wisely
to consider
those fleeing moments of grace
in things quickly passing:
a walk on a musky-wooded path,
a cup of coffee silently savored,
a birdsong in the squeaky hours of dawn,
the gentle touch of a liver-spotted hand,
a loving letter from a grateful stranger,
a fading crescent moon in a royal blue sky.
I turn to gather
finely layered remnants like these
in the come and go of my days,
and discover, with surprise,
how quickly my inner room
is a harvest place of gold.
(From: Out of the Ordinary: Prayers, Poems, and Reflections for Every Season, Joyce Rupp. Ave Maria Press)
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by Joyce.
