Gratitude

Thanks for the shrimp
and the butter on my chin.
Thanks for the way they pop
going in.

Thanks for the momentary,
the transient, the true
for a moment.  Thanks for
sharing my ineptitude.

Thanks for the level gaze,
the fingers tip-tapping on my wrist.
Thanks for the falling, the landing,
soft focus, pulse, resist.

No knee to take, no head to bow.
Thanks for the upright posture, your stand
in favor of receiving my difficult offer.
Thanks for open ears, open hand.

Gratitude’s a piece of charred wood
with a core still sound and deep grained.
Thanks for your willingness to burn
when you lifted it from my flame.