The Bodhisattva of the Morning

The Bodhisattva of the Morning

has draped cloud-shawls  

most attractively    

along the side of Meares,

whose head and shoulders

emerge like a stately woman,

assured of her place

in the scheme of things.

The water is calm and still,

waiting for the day to begin,

for the little boats to start chug-chug-chugging

across the harbour.

The quiet streets are speckled 

with pink and yellow blooms,

and the little birds are singing

their warbled songs of spring.

My eyes feast on village,

mountains, water, clouds.

My heart swells in my chest

and all is

      Gratitude, 

            Gratitude, 

                 Gratitude.