I copied this out some time ago and forgot to record who wrote it. Still a good thought for Thanksgiving.
There is joy in all:
in the hair I brush each morning,
in the Cannon towel, newly washed,
that I rub my body with each morning.
in the chapel of eggs I cook
each morning,
in the outcry from the kettlee
that heats my coffee
each morning,
in the spoon and the chair
that cry “Hello there, Anne”
each morning
in the godhead of the table
that I set my silver, plate, cup upon
each morning
All this is God,
right here in my pea-green house
each morning
and I mean,
though often forget
to give thanks,
to faint down by the kitchen table
in a prayer of rejoicing
as he holy birds at the kitchen window
peck into their marriage of seeds.
So while I think of it,
let me paint a thank-you on my palm
for this God, this laughter of the morning,
lest it go unspoken.
The Joy that isn’t shared, I’ve heard,
dies young