Counting my blessings
I’m sitting in the setting sun, counting my blessings, They keep slipping out of my hands. Nothing palpable. Nothing to thank God for? Maybe my eyes have turned blind. Maybe my hands have turned numb. Maybe my heart is a living rock. I will start all over again. Counting my blessings. I wish I could fill buckets. No, trucks. No, ships. Still nothing palpable. Nothing to thank God for? I will start all over again. I’m sitting in the deep sleep of the sun. Everything is quiet. Even the mice in my house will not interfere. I can hear my breath, I can hear my heartbeat. At last, right under my nose, I have found something. Something to thank God for.