I am grateful for what I am gifted
In these contemplator’s moments
There are many images
Colours, faces, textures, places
Where history traces has best it can
And with the magical re-enacting
Of the opening of the Russian dolls
My mind is able to catwalk, and strut
Let go, with the speed of a lava stream
And it means something, to have
The bird feeder, beside the swirling chimes
To have the yellow wheelbarrow
Hold down the straying of the purple tent
And now with time for reflection
To produce a record for the archives
Such that in twenty years time
I will be able re-enact this moment
I am grateful for what I gift
I am grateful for what I have gifted
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