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The Only Way I Know To Love the World
by Julia Fehrenbacher

It's not just a cup of coffee
but the warm hum of hello, an invitation
to wake, to sip, to say thank you
for another chance to dance
with another new day.

It's not just a ceramic mug, but the one she
shaped with her own 16-year-old
hands for me. For me.

It's not just one heart held open
to another, or a kiss blown in the mirror,
not just the soft circle of smile,
but a nod of--I see you. You are not alone.

Not just life. But your life. Your very temporary life.

It's isn't just the earth you stand on
but the giver of every single thing, a reason
to get down on humbled, human knees
and say thank you thank you thank you.

It is not just another moment but a door flung open,
a flooded-with-light entrance to every real thing

not just a poem but a prayer whispered
from one listening ear
to another. The only way I know
to love the world.

You can find this poem in The Wonder of Small Things: Poems of Peace & Renewal.

This post contains Amazon affiliate links. If you click through and make a purchase, I will receive a small compensation at no extra cost to you. This helps keep my blog ad-free.

Poem of Thankfulness
by Nathan Spoon

Today I am thankful for morning frost
touched by sunlight and sparkling

on lawns and fields    I am thankful too
for you and the warmth provided to my feet

inside ordinary socks and shoes and the way
the music of your voice enters my ears

and warms my heart leaving this planet of ours
spinning (if only slightly) more easily;

and I will consider how the world is good
difficult and good and how a lifetime

is both too short and too long
and how the injured heart cannot heal but

as researchers in Sweden have discovered
the muscle of our disadvantaged organ also can

and does slowly replenish itself      Today
when the bigness of the sky asks whoever

is standing beneath it are you ready
the gray trees drowsing and temporarily losing

the last of their burnt sienna leaves will say yes
and you will say yes and I will say yes too

You can find this poem in The Wonder of Small Things: Poems of Peace & Renewal.

This post contains Amazon affiliate links. If you click through and make a purchase, I will receive a small compensation at no extra cost to you. This helps keep my blog ad-free.

November Praise
by Joshua Michael Stewart

The smell of ferns and understory
after rain. The tick, tick of stove,

flame under kettle. Bing Crosby,
and not just the Christmas records.

Cooking meat slowly off the bone,
and every kind of soup and stew.

To come this close to nostalgia,
but go no further, leaving behind

the boy who wore loneliness
like boots too big for his feet.

That time of evening,
when everything turns blue

in moonlight, when darkness
has yet to consume all for itself.

You can find this poem in The Wonder of Small Things: Poems of Peace & Renewal.

The Most Important Thing
by Julia Fehrenbacher

I am making a home inside myself. A shelter
of kindness where everything
is forgiven, everything allowed—a quiet patch
of sunlight to stretch out without hurry,
where all that has been banished
and buried is welcomed, spoken, listened to—released.
​
A fiercely friendly place I can claim as my very own.
​
I am throwing arms open
to the whole of myself—especially the fearful,
fault-finding, falling apart, unfinished parts, knowing
every seed and weed, every drop
of rain, has made the soil richer.
​
I will light a candle, pour a hot cup of tea, gather
around the warmth of my own blazing fire. I will howl
if I want to, knowing this flame can burn through
any perceived problem, any prescribed perfectionism,
any lying limitation, every heavy thing.
​
I am making a home inside myself
where grace blooms in grand and glorious
abundance, a shelter of kindness that grows
all the truest things.
​
I whisper hallelujah to the friendly
sky. Watch now as I burst into blossom.

You can read this poem on Grateful.org.

Twelve Moons
by David Steindle-Rast

When the wolf moon grows fat
and the North wind roars on the shore,
an angel shall feed your fire
and bolt your door.

When the clean spring moon rises,
an angel, unheard and unseen,
shall clean your seven springs
and keep them clean.

When the sap moon draws sap
upwards from bulb and root,
an angel gardener shall guard
each new green shoot.

When the grass moon makes grasses
nod to each other in bloom,
an angel in white shall greet you
at Christ’s bright tomb.

When the planting moon mirrors
her face in the cold-frame glass,
an angel shall breathe at your seedlings
till all frosts pass.

When the rose moon blooms
in the sky like a silver-wrought rose,
an angel shall show you a rose garden
no one else knows.

When a frolicsome angel
rolls the hay moon over the hill,
you shall dance with the deer in the dark
while time stands still.

When the green corn moon glides
through the ripening corn, row by row,
an angel shall make swelling spikes
sweet as they grow.

When the harvest moon lantern
hangs golden and plump in the sky,
you shall hear an angels scythe zing.
You won’t ask why.

When the hunter’s moon races
black clouds like a galloping prince,
an angel shall draw his bow,
yet, you won’t wince.

When the frosty moon blinds
every pond with a thin film of white,
peeling scales from your eyes,
an angel shall heal your sight.

When the long night moon wanes
and the darkness keeps deepening fast,
an angel shall forge from your fears
faith that will last.

You can find this poem at Grateful.org.

The Cure For It All
by Julia Fehrenbacher

Go gently today, don’t hurry
or think about the next thing. Walk
with the quiet trees, can you believe
how brave they are—how kind? Model your life
after theirs. Blow kisses
at yourself in the mirror
especially when
you think you’ve messed up. Forgive
yourself for not meeting your unreasonable
expectations. You are human, not
God—don’t be so arrogant.
Praise fresh air
clean water, good dogs. Spin
something from joy. Open
a window, even if
it’s cold outside. Sit. Close
your eyes. Breathe. Allow
the river
of it all to pulse
through eyelashes
fingertips, bare toes. Breathe in
breathe out. Breathe until
you feel
your bigness, until the sun
rises in your veins. Breathe
until you stop needing
anything
to be different.

You can find this poem on Grateful.org.

This post contains Amazon affiliate links. If you click through and make a purchase, I will receive a small compensation at no extra cost to you. This helps keep my blog ad-free.

The Forest
by Nikita Gill

One day when you wake up, you will find that you’ve become a forest.

You’ve grown roots and found strength in them that no one thought you had.

You have become stronger and more beautiful, full of life giving qualities.

You have learned to take all the negativity around you and turn it into oxygen for easy breathing.

A host of wild creatures live inside you and you call them stories.

A variety of beautiful birds nest inside your mind and you call them memories.

You have become an incredible self sustaining thing of epic proportions.

And you should be so proud of yourself, of how far you have come from the seeds of who you used to be.

You can find this poem in The Wonder of Small Things: Poems of Peace & Renewal.