Little Thank You's All in a Row

52 lines of repeating "ing" endings is long for the Blob but that's what I wrote one year, a poem I called A Song for Thanksgiving. I started out to write one stanza and then got carried away. Sound familiar? It began to read like a gratitude journal, the kind people who are grieving are supposed to attempt. I remember when I did that kind of journal. I only came up with 5 entries a day. That's what the zombiness of grief can do to the mind. 10 times 5 entries is what comes about from joy rather than grief. Since my poem became a rhapsody, too long to post, it occurs to me I can put on my Catalyst's Cap and give you a few lines which you, my lovely readers, can add to. Maybe your song lines will double mine. One hundred four!

~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you children, for the smiles you bring,

their readiness unfaltering.

Thank you, books, for your remembering.

Thank you, friends, for your nurturing.

Thank you, music, for melodies enduring

long past the first clear note's piping.

Thank you, hearth, bright flames leaping--

Look! ghosts of old stories merging, receding.

Thank you, loved ones, for your thoughts while traveling,

our paths sometimes forking

but our faiths coinciding--

your words of calm wisdom designing

a sampler of patterns in varied, rich stitching.

Thank you, Earth, for your sheltering.

Thank you, stars in your wanderings

for fixing a course to lead us in.

Thank you, seas, for the might of wild churning,

the gentle lap in coves at dawning.

Thank you, clouds, for art works progressing

from flowers to lions to elephants balancing,

from dogs to fleet unicorns to galleons adventuring.

Thank you, days, for schedules in growing:

the calendar turns with the months' glad conspiring.

The world is so grand, so full and so pleasing.

I cherish Life's bounties, its sweet gifts unceasing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

...may the blessings of catching tiny o-happy-day surprises be yours...

art on a card from susannaruth

The Quiet Car Not

Greetings from the Treehouse! For those of you who expected a blob from the shire, you can still view it at http://christineintheshire.blogspot.com where it is on sabbatical. The decision to have two blobs is very Gemini. The Shire is in Chapel Hill and the Treehouse in New York City. My post this time at this site is about the trip up on train #80. I tried upgrading to business class to compare notes. The car attendant was chatty and ready to exchange hot news. She was about to have her 58th birthday. She said she was married for the first time two years ago to a man ten years older who also was marrying for the first time. I overheard another attendant say, "I'm married 5 to 10." Since I forgot my mystery, I tried to borrow a book with "corpse" in the title for twenty minutes. The man said flat out, "No, I don't think so." That made me curious. On the Greyhound bus from Eureka to San Francisco, I had borrowed a book about grief and enjoyed not only the short break but the conversation which ensued. Apparently, the man plain was disgusted with his book because he didn't ever open it. Maybe it was a gift not worth giving in his estimation. On longer trains there is a designated Quiet Car with restrictions on cells phones and chit-chat. I enjoy eavesdropping so I was glad to pass the hours that way. A passenger behind me spent a good forty minutes on who was going to meet him at Penn Station. Opposite me, there was a highly educated woman in sari who never raised her eyes from her laptop and text concerning adolescence in anthropology. I could have had a spirited discussion on that optic but she was not having it. Business class is roomier with footrests and pillows. The river views from Fredericksburg in autumn were right out of National Geographic. At one point an announcement explained why the train stopped. "We are stopped at a signal. Once we receive a more favorable signal, we will proceed." Falling Back brought a new look to the nation's capital which appeared decorated with Christmas lights whereas on summer trips it sat in a pool of sunlight. A woman who grew up in East Germany was happy to talk when I went on my book loaning expedition. She and her husband have retired to a small town near the Tar River. She said she hadn't visited Germany since her mother died. Mother was brought over twice but Mother didn't like it. "America is so dirty," she declared. So Mother returned and Mother missed out as Daughter was going to Philly for her granddaughter's 16th birthday. The man behind her solved the long trip activities situation by having brought along 15 movies. He phoned a friend and recommended The Reader. This reader ended up doing crossword puzzles and then tearing out the page to put inside the newspaper to be recycled. Chatty Attendant came bustling over to thank me for the crosswords. I don't know why she was grateful for used crossword puzzles but when I slipped her a tip at the end of the trip I enclosed it in used puzzles and told her, "Now you have all the answers!"

Whether it is in the shire of the treehouse, the wonderful world of confluences of stories will be coming to you.

~~~~~

...may blessings surround you as regularly as train whistles spreading the news of arrivals and departures...