Today

Ever since I started this daily poetry blog, I tend to get a little nervous when I have one of those days in which not much seems to happen. What's remarkable about today, I wonder, and what the heck am I going to write about? Then I remember that I should take a step back and be grateful for uneventful days, and for the mere fact that I live and move and have my being. St. Fred says, with regard to the idea of "today":

It is a moment of light surrounded on all sides by darkness and oblivion. In the entire history of the universe, let alone in your own history, there has never been another just like it and there will never be another just like it again. It is the point to which all your yesterdays have been leading since the hour of your birth. It is the point from which all your tomorrows will proceed until the hour of your death. If you were aware of how precious it is, you could hardly live through it. Unless you are aware of how precious it is, you can hardly be said to be living at all.

Ah--today! This makes me want to send up one of those "thank you thank you thank you" prayers that Anne Lamott talks about. I came up with a quick list of some of the things that make today wonderful:

The hum of the dryer, the call of crows.

My laundry room wallpaper, all lotuses and silvery leaves.

My children circa 2006, smiling out at me
from a picture frame on my desk
and
my children now, lanky
and always foraging for food.

My husband, a virtuoso at almost everything
and fun and funny too.

Yes, even the cat hair
on my keyboard.