by Nan Lundeen
For wind that wailed, for cold that bit into bones, for skies in summer that flickeredheat lightning,
I give thanks.
For fear at bedsides,
for faith that held
us all in sturdy arms
even when we cried,
I give thanks.
For school folks,
for church folks,
for the music of perking coffee
during the last hand of cards,
I give thanks.
For two old elms
creaking outside my bedroom window
leaning toward each other
like old women telling stories,
I give thanks.
For a kitchen swelled by the smell
of baking bread,
for Grandma’s feet treading
the Singer sewing machine,
I give thanks.
For kerosene lanterns
when ice storms rattled the house,
for the wall phone’s melodious ring,
for the angel of mercy
ending suffering at last,
I give thanks.
For the wonder of library books,
for teachers who were kind,
for a dog to keep me company,
for parents who loved me,
I give thanks.
For tornadoes, for hailstorms,
for blizzards and sweltering summer days,
for the sweet rich soil of my youth,
I give thanks.