Giving Thanks (on Train)

Giving Thanks (on train)

What has been a day thick
with humidity
blossoms mist
over the Hudson.

Oh, father, why did I never thank you
for the incidental
kindnesses?

I do not write here of God–
at least, not mainly, of God, I add,
as I look back out the window
where an archetypal depiction of heaven
halos hills, a godhead’s parting
of cloud by sun over water.

How long he would wait
to drive me home–after school, after
rehearsals–all that seemed
so important–me, who could not stand
to wait–

Do I think of this because the river shines
like a windshield swept by night,
because the train drums the tracks
with the rhythms
of tires’ turn,
or, because the sky, so big at heart,
asks so little of me?

Do it now–give
thanks–and often.
Do it knowing
that the oncoming
has already passed, that in
the endless revolution of then,
no amount of clackety
can take you back.

Do it for the mist
and the missed
and in the midst of all
that you will not
then miss,
you with your eyes
full of sun
and cloud
and water.

***********************************************

Though much revised, this is still very much a draft poem for Real Toads open platform, hosted by the wonderful Kerry O’Connor–

The pics are in fact from my train ride (Metro North) along the Hudson yesterday evening. 

Explore posts in the same categories: New York City, poetry, Uncategorized

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10 Comments on “Giving Thanks (on Train)”

  1. X Says:

    Its been hot and humid here as well. In the nineties since last week and on til next Tuesday they say. Your thankfulness for your father – for the endless waiting, when we had no patience. Ha. I lived that, and now I live that. you know. Def let your appreciation be known now.

  2. vandana Says:

    beautiful pic and poem


  3. I think you have described a train ride as the dreamscape we are seeking.. the pictures and your words add so much wonder here. I want to just go and take the first train leaving for my dreams

  4. Snakypoet (Rosemary Nissen-Wade) Says:

    You’re not wrong in what you say — and yet, I think that for him the doing was its own reward. That’s just how it is for loving parents.

  5. hedgewitch Says:

    Beautiful pics, k, and correspondingly important thoughts. I always feel gratitude when I read the memories of those who have had someone to love and cherish them as children, that that is in the world. Your fifth stanza is just exquisite, but the whole poem has a music that comes from the most lyric and accomplished inner orchestra, swelling over the poem like ‘a windshield swept by night.’

    • ManicDdaily Says:

      Thanks. I was very lucky in the parents’ draw; my father was an exceptionally kind and loving person. I like that stanza too–not sure about the end–had a lot of trouble there, but something to think about I guess in a future version. I had a much simpler one, but I sometimes hate the misuse of words–by misuse, meaning making something a noun that is not a noun–even though people do it all the time and it allows for a kind of short=hand–so got rather longwinded. Ha. Oh well. k.

  6. Mama Zen Says:

    “or, because the sky, so big at heart,
    asks so little of me?”

    Just beautiful.

  7. Ayala Says:

    Beautiful poem !

  8. Kerry O'Connor Says:

    Thank you for sharing these amazing photos of your view from the train, and your thoughts, memories of a father’s unconditional love.


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