|Morning in Mexico|
the authors, teachers, artists, carpenters,
the fighters of fires, the doctors of disease,
those who built the roads through the mountains and deserts,
those who grew the vegetables and fruits for my table,
all the meals and makers-of-meals who went unblessed,
all the garments and sewers and sellers of them
that kept me dressed,
and the thousands, millions, of other unthanked souls
who have made my life possible, made it a joy.
for all the beauty I forgot to acknowledge:
the mountains, meadows, moonglows and manatees,
the soft summer days, the snow-covered pines,
the cactus blossoms of spring, the yellow aspens of fall,
all the trees I never thanked for my breath,
all the clouds I never thanked for their beckonings,
all the rocks I never thanked for their stories,
all the rivers and lakes, puddles and ponds,
the oceans of water that refreshed my days,
never once asking for my thanks.
for all the people who made me laugh or cry:
the jokesters, writers, actors, makers of movies,
the merry whistlers and designers of Tilt-a-Whirls,
all you bubbling fountains of mirth and magic
who brought forth giggles and guffaws, chuckles and chortles,
tears and torment, glimpses into alien worlds and other hearts,
graciously accepting my laughter and tears as thanks enough.
to all of you ... friends and family,
those recognized and total strangers,
finally and utterly incompletely,
thanks. ... Thanks! ... Thank YOU!