Morning Thanks

Garrison Keillor once said we'd all be better off if we all started the day by giving thanks for just one thing. I'll try.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

From A Year of Morning Thanks

In the dark, a robin’s song

It’s mid-March, and I swear it’s impossible for me to remember when the world was lit at quarter to six. I know it’s happened, but right now it seems a dream. It’s been dark—and cold—forever.

Yesterday, however, when I left for the gym, out east the world was just pulling on a glowing new wardrobe, almost a shock. Even more thrilling, as if out of nowhere, was the gutsy song of the robin. I saw the first one on Sunday, but heard him or her for the first time today—this morning, in the darkness. When I walked out of the house, our car was only slightly visible in the driveway, but that piped in music was, all by its lonesome, a triumph over night.

On Monday, we had two inches of snow that, at any earlier time, would have looked simply beautiful. But this time of year, I’d rather look away. By last night, most of it was gone.

But an innocent song warbled proudly in the receding darkness, and in an instant I tell myself I can go on. I never saw that robin to give him thanks, but I’m doing it.

Listen for yourself:

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