There's an Anne Sexton poem which a friend shared with me some time ago, and which has been sitting in a file on my desktop ever since. I open it from time to time, and reread it, and am reminded of how much I love it. Today I wanted to share it with y'all.
Welcome MorningThere is joy
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
in the outcry from the kettle
that heats my coffee
in the spoon and the chair
that cry "hello there, Anne"
in the godhead of the table
that I set my silver, plate, cup upon
All this is God,
right here in my pea-green house
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,
I particularly love the part of the poem which begins "All this is God." And "I mean / though often forget / to give thanks[.]" And "as the holy birds at the kitchen window / peck into their marriage of seeds." And the notion of painting a thank-you on my palm for God. Like mehndi, maybe. Or the mnemonic device of tying a string around one's finger (which is one of the ways I like to think about tefillin, too.) I hope this one speaks to y'all, too.