A cluttered, quiet home, paper stacked high
On every horizontal plane or chair.
A child whose greatest trial is her hair,
Tangled without mercy, every day. Why
Not sing slight psalms of gratitude when light
Pours onto hardwood floors? Or when coffee
Scents the middle of the day? I can see
From this window twenty sturdy, square white
Homes where grief arrives at night on colored
Screens that one deft finger can transform to
Happiness with a click. I say thank you
These jeans pockets hold just four creased dollars,
And when my wife comes through the kitchen door
We argue about laundry and not war
On every horizontal plane or chair.
A child whose greatest trial is her hair,
Tangled without mercy, every day. Why
Not sing slight psalms of gratitude when light
Pours onto hardwood floors? Or when coffee
Scents the middle of the day? I can see
From this window twenty sturdy, square white
Homes where grief arrives at night on colored
Screens that one deft finger can transform to
Happiness with a click. I say thank you
These jeans pockets hold just four creased dollars,
And when my wife comes through the kitchen door
We argue about laundry and not war
—David Wright, A Liturgy for Stones, posted on Avatar Review.
For more creative worship resources for Thanksgiving Sunday or Harvest celebrations, click on Thanksgiving Sunday in the list of “Labels” at the lower right side of the page, or see this Thanksgiving Day Resources index.
