Naming one thousand gifts… day 5

68. sounds of new construction hammering the distance

69. Emmy dog curled up by warm rocks in watery sunlight

70. blueberry pancakes griddle brown

71. fixers… vets and docs and dentists and car mechanics

72. tired beauty of tattered curtains in empty farmhouse window

73. Eames designed lime green chair

74. God provided window of opportunity

75. amped up guitar practice next room over

76. reading on the back porch

77. leftovers

78. working out the details, making it work

79. email

80. the millisecond it took for the cyclist going the wrong way on the sidewalk to safely pass my car

Corn Griddle Cakes (Photo credit: ulterior epicure)

Tuesday Poem 003

Look! See!

Look! Exclamation of two year olds and middle age whale watchers
commands immediate attention in sand box and off starboard side
offers a guards down gift of sudden sight.

Lookie-here is Old Country, like wrinkled grandpa porch rocking
hound at his feet. Mind my words son, my wise, year-full words. Makes
no difference, young-uns reckless, half-eared things.

Looking is committed motion. Cranks your neck to acute angle, drops
what you’re doing. Like when a toddler palm-holds your face by the cheeks
pulls your chin up, demands eye level “look at me” looking.

As if God had to ignore everything else and concentrate carefully on
the right mix of clay and spit in his hands. No. God’s mountain view
was pregnant with infinity. Visions of good, also for our eyes.

Imagine looking, seeing, like you just found out it’s the bonus question
on the exam. Like myopic tending to what is forming in your sweaty palms
is secondary to seeing what is very good. Like snow days matter.

Behold and see, lift your eyes and see, look and see.
Pay attention. Look long and hard. Imagine.
Look! See!