Thanksgiving Prayer

I praise You, Lord of the Dawn,
Sun of righteousness, for the mercy
Of these mornings, rare as jade on
A golden beach
When I rise feeling clear
The strength returned to my arm
Discernible as the light increasing 
In the east.

I thank You for storm clouds
The stroke of lightning with the sun
As I turn on the fire simulacrum
The sky illumines, rumble of thunder
Follows on a windy morning clouds rack
Branches heave, cough reasserts itself

I know the good feeling passes
Feel it ebbing even while I write. 
I praise you and give thanks
For the grace of the dog’s eerie
Ghost warning in her sleep
Bringing my heart to my throat 
In atavistic memory of vigilance
Long past.

Through forgotten caverns of mind
The log hut where the fire never
Went out, for savage things stymied
By her ghost howl, I praise You
And give thanks.

I give praise as my strength
Dwindles with the growing light
And the house wakens
Safe from found to top.
For clear-skied mornings, also,
Roofless sky touching blue mountains
Eight bluebirds come to the water
Jays laughing at the imperceptible
Dawn. 

Author: Duncan MacNae

Exiled Gael, scion of the Dust Bowl, dweller within Divine Grace, admirer of mountains, I have made my peace with trout and the starlings. Looking for a river and healing trees. duncanmacduncan5@gmail.com View all posts by Duncan MacNae