It isn’t a matter of using the day, but of finding a way to express one’s gratitude. Or it might be a matter of finding one’s gratitude and expressing the way.
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Junco bathing in a puddle — sunlight-celebration.
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Death is the poet’s last poem. Life is the page it’s written on.
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The body ages like a star. The mind is its light, seen from afar.
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Joy is the moment the mind and body are fully aware that each is the other and neither is there.
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Categories: A Few More Scratches
Tags: Aging, An Unknown Poet, Awareness, Bathing, Celebration, Death, Expression, Gratitude, Joy, Juncos, Life, Light, Mind and Body, Stars, Sun
William Michaelian 
Wonderful words, dear William!
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Thank you, dear Valeria!
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Thank you, dear William! 🙏🙏🙏
Have a great day!
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The junco! What a feisty creature.
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I love them. Feisty. Tough. I was surprised to learn that some live as many as fourteen years. They nest in our yard. Last summer, a couple hatched four little ones in our hanging flower basket. I watered the pot every morning while the parents looked on, right up to the day the babies flew out.
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It might or might not matter, but know, please know, your words helped me though my recent ordeal.
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Oh, it matters, I assure you. Thanks for telling me.
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