Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 3, 2020

Thursday, March 26, 2020

Old Sweet Song

(for J.)

I'm grateful for whatever
time we have.
I hope we soon don't have
to say goodbye.

Time is short
but love is long.
Contentment
is not wrong. 

It's been the dearest privilege
knowing you.
You've loved me and I'm still
not certain why.

Time is short
but love is long.
Contentment
is not wrong. 


hans ostrom 2020

Saturday, January 5, 2019

Unhappy Meal

The soup is thin
and dejected. I console
it while ladling.
The bread is dry, as
rigid as a hateful pastor.
I introduce the bread
to the soup and it
softens. The wine's eyes
are bright with tears.
It misses vineyard
sunshine. I sip it gently.

This is sustenance. I am
grateful for it but
cannot deny it
is a meal in mourning.
Therefore I finish
and leap up, kind of.
I flee in search of
rich desserts or a
witty woman in a red
dress or both.


hans ostrom 2019

Sunday, November 13, 2011

and the soup

*
*
*


and the soup


and I'm glad for soup,
 for hot soup on  bitter days

and I'm happy there is
black hair, white hair, brown
and red hair, gold hair;

and for breath--so easy
to forget I owe everything
to it, to breath, to . . .

. . . to the Circumstances
(one way to say it) I am
grateful, for I am here,

I was here, will have been

here. . . and I'm glad for light,
day and sky and bulb,
light in dreams;
and glad for darkness--

black silhouettes of pines
against blackness and stars,
holy, holy . . .and the soup.


Copyright 2011 Hans Ostrom

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Gratitude















Concerning Gratitude


Gratitude--that's a tough one, easy
to fake, or to ruin even when you're
not pretending. It isn't the same
as feeling lucky, and when you
express it, you should feel as if there's
plenty more left in the pond. Wait.
I shouldn't speak for anyone but me.

I feel as if gratitude isn't just
liking what's come my way but
marveling that I came this way
& that there is a way.

I feel as if gratitude isn't
an inventory of tools, jewelry,
machines, money, and enemies.
I don't think it's taking stock,
recording victories, or even,
heaven forbid, counting blessings.
--Nothing against accounting,
but gratitude's not a ledger.

I get this idea of the whole, and,
yes, I know what I just wrote's
as vague as fog. Gratitude
makes me kind of quiet--
and careful, because it's easy
to let slip away, gratitude.
It seems to be a large but delicate
emotion--yes, warm inside,
true enough, but cool to the touch.


Hans Ostrom

Copyright 2008 Hans Ostrom