love breeds
sense of blessing. . .

sense of blessing
thanksgiving. . .

it’s best
we ground our feet
on sturdy Earth–
this place
we came
to have our birth,

and where we
can learn to weather
and transform
though the worse
and through the better,

when heads stand tall
to feel the kiss
of gentle sky,
that ties us
to our great big why. . .

our feet, firm down,
and head, held high–
we’re in position
to receive all Truth transmission,

to see the roses with their thorns
and celebrate,
even things and friends
we also mourn,
as a holiday tradition,

that we bring anew
unto our everydays, too–

a crucial sort
of daily celebration,
which will become
unto our lives
a blessed new addition.

This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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