Monday, August 23, 2021


         It’s reassuring to remember, at the start of each day, that the entire day will be praiseworthy. Every single occurrence – every sight I see, every thought that presents itself, every breeze across my arms – will be commendable. Even situations that seem repulsive – some shock, some frightening incident – will, in some perhaps concealed way, be worthy of praise, since they all will contain a quiet but wide-ranging kind of wisdom, just for me.  It’s like treasure lies in wait for me in every golden moment, which is all of them. 

         The coming hours will be exemplary in countless ways. I had best be ready to bow and receive and praise.  

a poem about Bill M., 87, Blessings, CT

He used to love to answer questions 
with excellent answers, 
but now he responds with questions, 
especially "Who knows?",
and he loves those two words - 
since who knows 
where wind comes from? 
and who knows 
if the sky has an end?  
and who knows 
when silence started?
and hey, who knows 
who he or she really is?
and who knows 
if all power isn't present 
right here and right now?  

Bill now knows 
that he truly knows nothing, 
and that's why he loves saying
"Who knows?" 
and then smiling.