Thanksgiving

I thank you, God, because I still can breathe,
And smell the roses and the daffodils,
And smoke air currents all around us wreathe,
And clippings drifting from the new-shorn hills.

I thank you, God, because I'm still alive,
And I can see white crocuses spring up,
And yellow bees swarm from a golden hive,
And green grass, blue sky, and a golden cup.

T. G. 4/23/18