Sunday gratitude, with spring rain and poetry

I’m thankful for ornamental plum blossom season. Here, before the petal snow, blossoms billow against whatever steel-gray or blue skies March brings. Weather blows through without making up its mind–drizzle-mist, sun, downpour, or the threat of cloud burst looming large and iron-purple, but the pink and white blossoms, the yellow daffodils blooming already, and the fat green shoots of tulips to come promise that spring is coming. No matter that when those tulips finally open, we’ll probably get a wind storm to strip. Such signs, such signs as the purple hyacinth in the back of the back yard, help through the gray, help ease me out of winter.

I’m thankful for sleep.

I’m thankful for my family and all its extensions. I’m especially thankful for some time with my daughter, who turned 21 on Friday, and my oldest son and his girlfriend and her family. Very thankful.

And thank you to all the friends who came through the rain for today’s poetry reading–so good to see you!–and a huge thanks to the other poets who read and to Eagle Harbor Books.

Finally, I’m sending good thoughts to my younger son, who left this week for his next stint of Marines training.

Keep the door open. Open my heart.

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