Though I have been scorned for it
let me never be afraid to use the world beautiful.
For with is the shining leaf
and the blossoms of the geranium at the window.
And the eyes of the happy puppy as he wakes.
The colors of the old and beloved afghan lying
by itself, on the couch, in the morning sun.
The hummingbirds' nest perched now in a
corner of the bookshelf, in front of so many
books of so many colors.
the two poached eggs. The buttered toast.
The ream of brand-new paper just opened,
white as a block of snow.
The typewriter humming, ready to go.
Having read this poem, I just walked around the house this morning, taking inventory of the beauty I see. It was like a walking meditation, a prayer.
Into the kitchen I see the refrigerator, whose freezer is full of locally grown leafy foods converted into the soup that nourishes me through the winter, made by the hands of my beloved spouse.
Out the window I appraise the growing sand pile, the leavings for the recently refreshed gopher tortoise burrow. Maybe I will see her today, maybe not. But I know she's there and I guess in her turtle way, she knows of us.
The living room carpet has a few kernels of popcorn, the leavings of our family night last night - cards and movies with spouse and son.
Down the hall I quietly lurk, peeking into the reading/meditation room where my spouse sits in healing silence and where the sun shines through the sycamore leaf in the window. This room, now mostly empty after adopted son #2 took his leaving of us, likely permanently.
Then into the last room, darkened as to son #1's preferences, piles of clothes on the floor and dishes on his desk, showing the signs of late night study sessions interspersed with his constant chatter on phone and computer. He has left for the day, though he leaves behind in me a gratitude for his sprawling, unique presence.
And now back to my computer, it humming until I feed it the words of the song within me.
What does your list of beauty and gratitude look like as you go around your house?