..for the holding of doors,
for the genial face
on the other side of a window,

for the waitress
with a smoker’s voice
who calls everyone
doll and sweetie.

Thank you
for iambic verses
and minor seventh chords
and flecks of robin egg blue.

Thank you
for the rescuing of days,
for perfect landings
and sacred meetings,

for turmeric stains
on bamboo cutting boards,
for the small ruby
left in my wine glass.

Thank you
for the stepping away,
and for the returning
with liberated eyes.

Thank you
for the warning scent of rain,
and for the rain itself,
and for its ceasing.

And thank you
for the certainty of stars,
for piles of evenings,
and the joy that comes after.

Image credit:Joyce Hankins

Hugh does not prefer to talk about himself in the third person, but if he did, he'd tell you he's in a self-imposed exile on the east coast of the USA, but still loves his former home in the Sonoran Desert. He is the author of Odd Numbers And Evensongs and Auditions For The Afterlife.