It doesn't have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don't try
to make them elaborate, this isn't
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.
from "Thirst", Beacon Press, 2006
This poem seems humble and gracious to me.
We will be traveling up to younger stepson's college tomorrow and overnight, so probably won't get a chance to post my sermon until later.
In the meantime, prayers and blessings to all.