Poem of the Month: November 2001

These shriveled seeds we plant,
corn kernel, dried bean,
poke into loosened soil,
cover over with measured fingertips

These T-shirts we fold into
perfect white squares

These tortillas we slice and fry to crisp strips
This rich egg scrambled in a gray clay bowl

This bed whose covers I straighten
smoothing edges till blue quilt fits brown blanket
and nothing hangs out

This envelope I address
so the name balances like a cloud
in the center of sky

This page I type and retype
This table I dust till the scarred wood shines
This bundle of clothes I wash and hang and wash again
like flags we share, a country so close
no one needs to name it

The days are nouns:  touch them
The hands are churches that worship the world

-- Naomi Shihab Nye

JOURNAL PROMPTS:

• Name the items you touch daily. How do they change when you touch them with hands that are "churches that worship the world"?
• What is your relationship with mindfulness, the art of living with care and attention to each passing moment?
• Describe a memorable Thanksgiving dinner. Who was there? What made it memorable? Include this journal entry with your holiday cards, letters or gifts to the people involved.
• Begin or continue a gratitude journal. Write in it all of the people, places and things for which you give thanks.