Poem in Thanks Thomas Lux Lord Whoever, thank you for this air I'm about to in- and exhale, this hutch in the woods, the wood for fire, the light-both lamp and the natural stuff of leaf-back, fern, and wing. For the piano, the shovel for ashes, the moth-gnawed blankets, the stone-cold water stone-cold: thank you. Thank you, Lord, coming for to carry me here-where I'll gnash it out, Lord, where I'll calm and work, Lord, thank you for the goddamn birds singing! How Many Nights Galway Kinnell How many nights have I lain in terror, O Creator Spirit, Maker of night and day, only to walk out the next morning over the frozen world hearing under the creaking of snow faint, peaceful breaths... snake, bear, earthworm, ant... and above me a wild crow crying 'yaw yaw yaw' from a branch nothing cried from ever in my life. Welcome Morning Anne Sexton There is joy in all: in the hair I brush each morning, in the Cannon towel, newly washed, that I rub my body with each morning, in the chapel of eggs I cook each morning, in the outcry from the kettle that heats my coffee each morning, in the spoon and the chair that cry "hello there, Anne" each morning, in the godhead of the table that I set my silver, plate, cup upon each morning. All this is God, right here in my pea-green house each morning and I mean, though often forget, to give thanks, to faint down by the kitchen table in a prayer of rejoicing as the holy birds at the kitchen window peck into their marriage of seeds. So while I think of it, let me paint a thank-you on my palm for this God, this laughter of the morning, lest it go unspoken. The Joy that isn't shared, I've heard, dies young. Psalm 23 from The Bay Psalm Book The Lord to me a shepherd is, want therefore shall not I: He in the folds of tender grass, doth cause me down to lie: To waters calm me gently leads restore my soul doth he: He doth in paths of righteousness for his name's sake lead me. Yea, though in valley of death's shade I walk, none ill I'll fear: Because thou art with me, thy rod, and staff my comfort are. For me a table thou hast spread, in presence of my foes: Thou dost anoint my head with oil; my cup it overflows. Goodness and mercy surely shall all my days follow me: And in the Lord's house I shall dwell so long as days shall be. At Least Raymond Carver I want to get up early one more morning, before sunrise. Before the birds, even. I want to throw cold water on my face and be at my work table when the sky lightens and smoke begins to rise from the chimneys of the other houses. I want to see the waves break on this rocky beach, not just hear them break as I did all night in my sleep. I want to see again the ships that pass through the Strait from every seafaring country in the world- old, dirty freighters just barely moving along, and the swift new cargo vessels painted every color under the sun that cut the water as they pass. I want to keep an eye out for them. And for the little boat that plies the water between the ships and the pilot station near the lighthouse. I want to see them take a man off the ship and put another up on board. I want to spend the day watching this happen and reach my own conclusions. I hate to seem greedy-I have so much to be thankful for already. But I want to get up early one more morning, at least. And go to my place with some coffee and wait. Just wait, to see what's going to happen. Address to the Lord John Berryman 1 Master of beauty, craftsman of the snowflake, inimitable contriver, endower of Earth so gorgeous & different from the boring Moon, thank you for such as it is my gift. I have made up a morning prayer to you containing with precision everything that most matters. 'According to Thy will' the thing begins. It took me off & on two days. It does not aim at eloquence. You have come to my rescue again & again in my impassable, sometimes despairing years. You have allowed my brilliant friends to destroy themselves and I am still here, severely damaged, but functioning. Unknowable, as I am unknown to my guinea pigs: How can I 'love' you? I only as far as gratitude & awe confidently & absolutely go. I have no idea whether we live again. It doesn't seem likely from either the scientific or the philosophical point of view but certainly all things are possible to you, and I believe as fixedly in the Resurrection-appearances to Peter and to Paul as I believe I sit in this blue chair. Only that may have been a special case to establish their initiatory faith. Whatever your end may be, accept my amazement. May I stand until death forever at attention for any your least instruction or enlightenment. I even feel sure you will assist me again, Master of insight & beauty. Philip Appleman O Karma, Dharma, pudding and pie, gimme a break before I die: grant me wisdom, will, & wit, purity, probity, pluck, & grit. Trustworthy, loyal, helpful, kind, gimme great abs & a steel-trap mind, and forgive, Ye Gods, some humble advice- these little blessings would suffice to beget an earthly paradise: make the bad people good- and the good people nice; and before our world goes over the brink, teach the believers how to think. Reprinted from Good Poems by Garrison Keillor, Copyright (c)2002, Viking, a member of Penguin Putnam, Inc., used by permission Excerpted from Good Poems by Garrison Keillor All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
