The willows of Ute Creek underneath Pole Mountain and alongside the Rio Grande
I have much to be thankful for.
I have too much.
We live in a land of plenty
And still we ask for more
And complain of our neighbors
Our religions and leaders
Our neighbors’ religions and leaders
We point a finger, shift the blame
Worried only that they will take it away
With trepidations of having less
It is never quite enough
With our TVs blaring over washed out conversations
Softened by the hum of the dishwasher
As we flick on another light
Quickly flush the toilet
Grab a pop from the fridge
And run out in our SUV to the corner store
To get one more thing
To put on the table that is
Already what one would consider
Too full.
I have much to be thankful for.
My choice has been to do with less
To try to do without
No tv, power lines, dishwasher or corner store
And still I have too much, too many.
I live in a land of plenty
As the coyote works the pastures in search of one single mouse
And the black bear turns within the ground and the elk descend the mountain
Because food this time of year is far too scarce
And the Stellar Jays check their stashes in the branches hoping they will hold for winter
And the rabbit leaves his tracks from the shelter of the spruce tree
Trying to make it another day
Another winter
Another year
In the land of plenty
They are the wealth.
As the sun is certain to rise
And the moon to make her rounds
The season provides
The mountain allows
And still I ask for more
I have much to be thankful for.
I have too much.
We live in a land of plenty.