The resilience of good things

This morning I pulled up the window blinds -- day cracked open,

spread itself, a golden yolk over the trees along the

horizon, its comforting glow the warm breakfast that sticks

the way they tell us good things are supposed to stay with us.

To remember this is hard when the hard, as unyielding

as good hardwood feels, is the only solid thing in the

flow of our days, glutted with worry and bills to be paid

when softness and wonder only comes to us in our sleep.

Maybe kindness can come our way too, be resilient

in face of contrary odds, when all indications point

to its opposite, but one person’s act of kindness can

remind us that grace can sometimes be found in groceries

paid forward by a stranger in line, that good things can come

to us if we wait for them, pick them out of our life like

shells we winnow from sand on a beach walk, in retrospect,

left behind in the ebb and flow of storms, grace in their wake.