Poor in Spirit

I live on the largesse of the One

Who breathed life into me

even when I forget it and credit

my own hard work instead.

I may congratulate myself

on daily exercise and a nutritious diet,

but this body is a blessing,

good health a gift.

My blind mother and deaf friend

show me how lucky I am

to see and hear a willow tree

billowing in wind-blustered rain.

I walk miles in the storm,

lungs and legs doing the work

they evolved for,

unlike my friend with COPD,

my father with arthritic knees.

Waning moon and winter’s empty fields

tell me my own story.

I am earth

for a little while

breathing Spirit,

ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Let my repentance be surrender

to this wild fragility,

let me be humble as an acorn in oak duff

at home in the Kingdom of Enough.

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Photo courtesy of Sylvia Deck