"There are a lot of words meaning thanks.
Some you can only whisper.
Others you can only sing.
The pewee whistles instead.
The snake turns in circles,
the beaver slaps his tail
on the surface of the pond.
The deer in the pinewoods stamps his hoof.
Goldfinches shine as they float through the air.
A person, sometimes, will hum a little Mahler.
Or put arms around an old oak tree.
Or take out lovely pencil and notebook to find a few touching, kissing words."
Mary Oliver, whose poetry is known for its heart-tugging observations on the natural world, while still exploring larger themes about humanity, wrote The Morning Walk. Walking home from Balboa Park and my regular morning walk with Gail, looking around at the beauty and the incredible almost-summer-like weather, Oliver's poem came to mind.
It's Thanksgiving. Such blessing in my life.
I smiled remembering another poem with the same title...who doesn't love the childlike musings of A.A Milne, best known for his Winnie the Pooh stories?
"When Anne and I go out for a walk,
We hold each other's hand and talk
Of all the things we mean to do
When Anne and I are forty-two.
And when we've thought about a thing,
Like bowling hoops or bicycling,
Or falling down on Anne's balloon,
We do it in the afternoon."
I am thankful for family and friends, morning walks, poetry, the natural world and home.
And so much more.
Whatever it is that fills you up, spend time doing it.
Happy Thanksgiving.