"There are a lot of words meaning thanks.
Some you can only whisper.
Others you can only sing." – Oliver,  "Poem: The Morning Walk"







Through the slats of the blinds
you can tell, as soon as you pull the curtains,
whether the day is a thank you.

Three black forks of the oak shadow
crawl across the siding
of the neighbor's house – we know
the most important fact,
that the coming spring sunshine
has finally gathered it's courage
from the east
and will soon parade across the hours
lighting up the detritus
of the sidewalks, the gutters,
and had found its way into dreams.

The river side today splashing
by our wintering ducks
will waddle across the same street,
and the traffic, patient now by the kindness
of sunlight, will stop, watch,
and wish they could follow them
down into the cool blue water.