Garrison Keilor's poem on The Writers Almanac this morning (Jan. 3) was a gem. It's from the book, From While We've Still Got Feet, published by Copper Canyon Press.
WINTER: TONIGHT: SUNSET by David Budbill
Tonight at sunset walking on the snowy road,
my shoes crunching on the frozen gravel, first
through the woods, then out into the open fields
past a couple of trailers and some pickup trucks, I stop
and look at the sky. Suddenly: orange, red, pink, blue,
green, purple, yellow, gray, all at once and everywhere.
I pause in this moment at the beginning of my old age
and I say a prayer of gratitude for getting to this evening
a prayer for being here, today, now, alive
in this life, in this evening, under this sky.
I wonder ... when is "the beginning of my old age"? No matter. Every day is a good day for me to "say a prayer of gratitude for getting to this evening". I am blessed to be alive ... here ... now ... today ... under this gray sky (with "blue holes"!) in Oregon.