for most this amazing

2 for most this amazing

I just went out to pick a poo that Willow had left near the front door. It is a beautiful night — warm, not hot — comfortable — bright and sunny, the light from the not-quite-ready-to-set sun bouncing off fluffy white clouds against a brilliant blue sky — and it occurred to me I have lived more summers than I have left to live.

It was not a sad thought, because it rarely occurred to me, in all those summer days past, to treasure the moment the way I just cherished this evening. It was a magic moment, even though its purpose was to pluck five lumps of dog feces off the the ground and drop them in a plastic bag — magic because I felt so grateful for being alive to experience it — for having the sense to notice the magic — for having a sweet 11-year-old dog who is still alive and being loved and loving and producing good solid nuggets of healthy waste — for living in this home where Cj and I have made our lives — for the air that I breathe and the love in my heart — for life itself — for the flowers she has grown to bring even more color to this colorful world — for the full tummy from a full meal that so many in this world will not have tonight — as E.E. Cummings wrote so brilliantly:

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

And I know how he felt when he concluded,

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

7:15 p.m., July 29, 2020

Published by WarrenBluhm

Wordsmith and podcaster, Warren is a reporter, editor and storyteller who lives near the shores of Green Bay with his wife, two golden retrievers, and an insistent cat. Author of Gladness is Infectious, 24 flashes, How to Play a Blue Guitar, A Bridge at Crossroads, Refuse to be Afraid, and A Scream of Consciousness.

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