What do I have to be thankful for?
I asked myself today.
So I decided to count my joys
As I wandered along my way;
The warmth of a home, the love of friend,
The beautiful sound of the rain;
The still of the night, the touch of a child,
A day that is free from pain.
The light of the sun, the cool of a breeze,
The sound of a waterfall;
But the love of God and the peace it brings
Is the greatest blessing of all!
On the brow of the hill, behind a silent chapel,
two windmills spin new soundscapes over
the land, cart-wheeling alleluias.
Cloistered granite holds an orchestration
of birds, and eerie whirr, tremulous sounds
of curlew and lapwing. The wind
through the metal gate is a speaking in tongues
with the broken feed-hoop tuning in:
other-worldly, intimately insistent.
All this music to attend to, to slip into:
an old organ droning, an uproarious lullaby.
Up over da hill, arms turn, the heart lifts.