January: Year-day 23

                                     
                                    
January: Year-day 23

There should be no end to the thanks I show
for being born and allowed to remain
long enough in my ragged flesh/ to glow
in this world/ and beyond, a sunshine rain.

Flowers climbing, rising/ from a mountainside;
waters slowly entering Earth's thick sieve;
rhythms of wind carrying melodies pied.
There should be no end to the thanks I live.

Could there seem no beginning, middle, end
to my gratitude, my freedom to be,
you would note a kind of balance in me
you would smile toward/ as a friend to a friend
who is glad the other is near to spend
a spectral moment with, or two, or three.

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