*Photo by Pedro Alonso, courtesy of Creative Commons.*

I'm not a poet but I’m trying to understand awe.

— Cecilia Fischer, The Ocean Foundation

Long before dawn, the roosters call. A repetitive caw that rattles and gnaws, then becomes, like so many things — bird chatter, dog barks, thumping bass, an engine’s roar — a background to life.

Sometimes you grasp for any small thing, a tether to something stronger, bigger, better than the self.

When a young woman talks to you plainly, as if reciting the soundtrack of your inner life, you lean in close to catch every word:

Keep a sharp focus on the contents of your mind, she says. The words you hear, think, and speak will support or thwart you.

In a clattering cafe, far from the thrum of holiday cheer, you hear the distant threads of a familiar song. Silent Night calls you closer. You reach across a table, ask another, Do you hear it, too?

Or, in the dim light of evening chatter, above the twinkle of a crumbling courtyard wall, you hear The Drummer Boy. The rump-a-pum-pum is faint but you crawl along the soft slow beat.

In the morning, church bells ring with You Are My Sunshine, and a chord pulls within you. You understand now that this is the most reverent song you have ever heard.

Inside, you step lightly toward the steady hiss of candles burning. This, too, is song. Heart to throat to eyes, a gentle welling reminds you: every day holds the holy.

* * *

It’s Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to express appreciation for people, places, things, and more. Attention attracts gratitude, and gratitude expands joy. Please join me.

What are you thankful for today?

* * *

small things

the world is full of glass

unpack slowly

shake petals

serve tea

give wide starts

live among psalms

pull thin light

stand tall

give thanks

— Drew Myron