Perfectly Imperfect

There is joy in all:in

the hair I brush each morning

in the Cannon towel,

newly washed,

that I rub my body with each morning,

in the chapel of eggs I cook each morning,

in the outcry from the kettle that heats my coffee

each morning,

in the spoon and the chair

that cry "hello there, Anne"each morning,

in the god head of the table that I set my silver, plate, cup upon each morning.

All this is God,

right here in my pea-green house each morning and I mean,

though often forget,

to give thanks,

to faint down by the kitchen table in a prayer of rejoicing

as the holy birds at the kitchen window peck into their marriage of seeds.

So while I think of it,

let me paint a thank-you on my palm for this God,

this laughter of the morning,lest

it go unspoken.

The Joy that isn't shared, I've heard,dies young.--Anne Sexton