Breathe gratitude.
Sing, dance, write, dream
thankfulness for
all that is.

Oh, birds are easy,
so are hot October days,
the croaking of frogs
and scissor-legged songs of crickets.
But what about traffic jams and
missed rendezvous with friends?
What about suspicious masses on
a friend's CAT scan of her kidney,
or cruel words instead of kisses
on a 41st anniversary?
What about monks being tortured and killed
behind prison fences while the world
turns a blind eye?

Can I be grateful for that?
Not if I equate gratitude with optimism.
Not if my definition of "all that is" includes
only what I wish it were.

Gratitude does not judge.
Gratitude, like breathing, happens
whether we will it or not.
It is our natural way of being in the world.

Gratitude just is.