I love the shoots
and blossoms,
the beryl green of spring,
the clear blue skies
and birdsong...
but really
here’s the thing:
the wildflowers
are glorious
that crowd each
lea and bank,
and my heart
is overflowing,
but now...
whom do I thank?

It’s an atheist dilemma,
an agnostic’s fatal flaw;
we don’t mean to be
(ingratitude is hateful
to every moral law)...
and yes... and yet,
we feel a debt,
but then
we draw a blank!
O God!
(in whom we don’t believe)
please tell us who to thank!
For meadow, hill, and
where do we show

The caveman’s life
was cold and spare,
but he returned
a grateful share
in honor
of the Sacred Bear.
The Sioux, the Iroquois,
and Crow
thanked the mighty
but we,
(who don’t expect salvation
or fear that we will burn)
when it comes to Gratitude,
don’t know where to turn.

Though Jesus died
to save us,
and we thank
his honored name,
still there are many
martyred men
we know
who did the same.
For freedom
and for country,
they died
for me and you,
but who to thank
for springtime
we haven’t got a clue.

Assigning blame is simpler.
For human
pain and woe,
we may curse a God
we don’t believe in,
but whose fault it is
we know.
We hate the horrors
done in Your name,
but know
we’ve just ourselves
to blame.
The fault is ours;
we get it!
But for lilacs...
who gets credit?

So, thank you, God!
Though You are NOT!
For Gratitude,
You’re all we’ve got.
Let reason wince.
Let logic scoff,
but, yes, it takes
the pressure off
when in springtime JOY
we thankless souls
can slake our thirst
to show appreciation...
on YOU...
for flower, fern,
and birdsong,
and this increate