Thank you, Lord, for the ache in my neck
which pops up now and then
after a night of rest
like a broken jack-in-the-box
that’s missed its cue.
That is, thank you for the pain
and how its presence
illuminates its absence
elsewhere.

I give thanks for this brain
which used to fetch me such 
good marks in school 
(the best in the class, not
that you asked). 
That is, thank you for the humility
I wear like a crown of dried flowers
when I cannot think of words right away
or when they are lost on the tip of my tongue
forever. 

I have only gratitude for these creases
near my eyes
(some might call them crow’s feet– 
I call them proof
of reasons to smile,
of a life filled with laughter). 
That is, thank you for
the endless knock knock jokes,
the musings of toddlers,
even the potty humor—
the currents that carve
these canyons.

Thank you, Lord, for the silver hairs
that show up
loud and unashamed
like uninvited party guests.
That is, thank you for the way
they catch the light,
the way they make me
shine.

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