today's poem - winter: tonight: sunset (Budbill)
It's not winter here anymore, but there is never snow to crunch underfoot in this particular climate, and this poem is relevant for other reasons.
WINTER: TONIGHT: SUNSET
Tonight at sunset walking on the snowy road,
my shoes crunching on the frozen gravel, first
through the woods, then out into the open fields
past a couple of trailers and some pickup trucks, I stop
and look at the sky. Suddenly: orange, red, pink, blue,
green, purple, yellow, gray, all at once and everywhere.
I pause in this moment at the beginning of my old age
and I say a prayer of gratitude for getting to this evening
a prayer for being here, today, now, alive
in this life, in this evening, under this sky.
"WINTER: TONIGHT: SUNSET"
by David Budbill
from While We've Still Got Feet
©Copper Canyon Press.
WINTER: TONIGHT: SUNSET
Tonight at sunset walking on the snowy road,
my shoes crunching on the frozen gravel, first
through the woods, then out into the open fields
past a couple of trailers and some pickup trucks, I stop
and look at the sky. Suddenly: orange, red, pink, blue,
green, purple, yellow, gray, all at once and everywhere.
I pause in this moment at the beginning of my old age
and I say a prayer of gratitude for getting to this evening
a prayer for being here, today, now, alive
in this life, in this evening, under this sky.
"WINTER: TONIGHT: SUNSET"
by David Budbill
from While We've Still Got Feet
©Copper Canyon Press.