Let me be thankful
for the librarian's smile
on a thirtyish face with thick-rimmed glasses
and hair dyed purple and blue.

Let me cherish small talk
with a stranger waiting for the 77
(weather, Red Sox, the unreliable MBTA).

Let me pocket the moon,
lost dime shining in a gutterpuddle.

Let me offer silence
to the stones of Cooke's Hollow.

Let me bestow the gift of music
on the sparrows of Pleasant Street.

Let me extend the blessing
of peace and light

to Rev. Vivian, rector of St Chad’s,
in her summer-green vestments.
 
Let me drive my fender-bent box
of ballyhoo and bones,

my body of wear and tear,
into a spot by the mist-blessed sea
and rest for a spell.