What Luck

I am so grateful for everything. For the radio that plays the country music that makes me feel meloncholy. For the coffee taste in the back of my throat by late morning. For kids who have good friends, and for being a good friend. For money to fix problems. For friends of my own, too.

For his essence. And mine. For the collective disposition between us, our transcendent connection.

Grateful for the ambient sound of life in a city. For the quiet that becomes layered in the country. For the rolling bubble of water around rocks in a creek, and the faint sound of television from another room, signifying co-existence.

What luck to be here. Or divinity. Or both.

Thank you thank you thank you.