National Poetry Month #17: To Say Nothing But Thank You

 When I watched my students work hard to make Earth Day a success I say thank you. When I return home tired and sore and see my gardens awakening to spring I also say thank you. When I soak in the tub to remove the Earth Day covering of garbage smells I again say thank you. 

To Say Nothing But Thank You

by JEANNE LOHMANN

JEANNE LOHMANNhas published eight collections of poetry and two books of prose, including Dancing in the Kitchen: A Prose Collection (Fithian Press) and Calls from a Lighted House: Poems(Daniel & Daniel Publishers). At nearly eighty-six, she relishes walks through her Olympia, Washington, neighborhood and remains active in the local poetry community.

All day I try to say nothing but thank you, 
breathe the syllables in and out with every step I 
take through the rooms of my house and outside into 
a profusion of shaggy-headed dandelions in the garden
where the tulips’ black stamens shake in their crimson cups.
 
I am saying thank you, yes, to this burgeoning spring 
and to the cold wind of its changes. Gratitude comes easy
after a hot shower, when my loosened muscles work, 
when eyes and mind begin to clear and even unruly 
hair combs into place.
 
Dialogue with the invisible can go on every minute, 
and with surprising gaiety I am saying thank you as I 
remember who I am, a woman learning to praise 
something as small as dandelion petals floating on the
steaming surface of this bowl of vegetable soup, 
my happy, savoring tongue.