Blessings

A trip with my sister to distant climes;

Producing, promoting a book of rhymes;

A dog on my doorstep, shivering, sweet;

Beloved in an instant, and just what I need;

A family, close, and still willing to show;

It’s clear, that my blessings are more than I know.

The privilege to travel, to live to great age,

To set all my silly thoughts down on a page,

To meet other people who think as I do.

To civilly argue with citizens who

Are happy to shake, and on this, disagree,

Not thinking my politics damning of me.

To live in a country where men still are free,

To feel in my bones, love for democracy,

To watch the world turning and influence how—

How fast, what direction–by speaking out now,

When some feel a chill and are still in their tongues.

The old make a ruckus, but not so, the young.

To all, what I wish you, this season of cheer:

Succumb not to censor from people who jeer,

Pursue what is just, without favor or fear,

And be true to your truth, through this youthful New Year.

For an older poem from the Black Lives Matter Protests era, about how our blessings can multiply in exponential terms, under certain political conditions, and would then be better described as privilege, read Chicken Fight. For a look at my year 2023, in which many delightful things happened, read the essay, New Years Post 2024–My Year.