She would send me photos/
of tall SoCal tropical trees/
silhouetted in the red sunset;/
dancing in the warm sea breeze.
As if to entice me/
to visit and to stay./
To warm my feet in the sand/
and watch the palm trees sway.
I returned the photo favor/
of a frigid, streaming sunrise:/
A frosted cottonwood silhouetted/
against cold blue mountain skies.
T’was not to tempt her, nor to say I was coldly sad,/
but to remind her to be grateful for the warm beauty she had.
I have no reason/
to be here except to say:/
“I remember. Thanks.”
What do you do when/
you get a gift so awesome/
it transcends “Thank You!!”?
(The John Kuhn autographed Green Bay Packer jersey says “John Kuhn #30” and “Super Bowl XLV Champs”)
The more that you see,/
the more that you sense, the more/
you’ll Experience.
I wept so hard I could almost not dictate this.
I walk gratefully,
reverently,
into her house,
where my daughter’s guardian angel
stands watch.
Skin falls off
boiling plums
and young old bones
and her parents tell me
that they would give everything
to have their daughter back.
But since they can’t
they will give me what they can,
what their angel daughter
told them to give,
to make sure her friend,
my daughter,
doesn’t leave.
I stand on an island,
speechless.
It is only much later
that I can weep
tears of gratitude,
for I have already wept
tears of sorrow
for their loss.
Perhaps,
because of their daughter’s love,
voice,
inspiration,
and angelic soul,
they won’t have to weep
for mine.
As I sit in church/
next to my goodly parent/
I feel gratitude.
Or
My spirit’s grateful.
Thankfulness is more. /
Like abundant fields, it grows/
when friends shine your life.
OR
Gratitude expands. /
Like sun-drenched fields, my thanks grows/
as friends enrich life.