A child seeing their first fireworks

frightened yet fascinated

by the boom and flash of color

on the darkened canvas.

Or my grandson’s competing instincts

in seeing a creepy crawly something

squash or watch..

The lightening sky of a new day

beckons me to walk and wonder

at the clouds on the horizon

and the first  glimmer of gold.

As I stoop to check out

the intricate folds

of a fuchsia and lime succulent.

I marvel at my limbs, my feet,

my sinews and muscles

all coordinating together.

Orchestrated by my brain

to propel me down the street

up the hill to see the shadows

of the palm branches on the lawns,

hear the crowing of the roosters ,

or the yap of a dog.

Then as I round the block

giving thanks for the

mundane certainty

that my mailbox is up ahead

my driveway,

my house

the gift of this day

that God has given

fresh before me.

D.L. Zschoche