Place at the Table

I disturbed the geese,
two of them apart from the flock
standing in purple camas,
complaining in goose talk
as they flew off across the bay.
Alone now except for the swifts
and the calm water of slack tide,
the first breeze that comes with the sun
lightly stroking the water.
The green world rises with fearless grass,
the color purple splashed along the rock
in the fullness of spring.
We’re all guests at this feast,
tasting again the beauty of the beloved,
feeling our way like the searching tide
into the deep clefts of the stony shore,
finding our place at the table,
thankful to be alive.





7 Responses to “Place at the Table”

  1. Rose Meeker says:


  2. Pichay says:

    reminds me of ocean sailing….the excitement of the first light breeze announcing conclusion of 4 days becalming, including one day’s journal entry of drifting backwards–a no-gainer! Haven’t we all experienced a day of backward drift in our lives?

  3. Finding our place at the table…and we all have a place!

  4. Bill Dare says:

    Ah yes… always thankful to be alive. Bless you, Don. LU Snowy

  5. We’re all guests at this feast. Perhaps the miracle is that we still have a place at the table, in spite of everything.

  6. Maria Frid Jimenez says:

    Yes, and the feast is glorious and I could not take it for granted. Thank you for pointing to the generous nature of the Beloved!

  7. David Barnes says:

    Most beautiful Don – the table is vast, plenty of room for all; the feast is an ongoing miracle, blessing and thanksgiving, feeding the multitude – like your poems, exuberant and overflowing.

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