A Garland of Gratitude for a Song of Unburdening

This is just to say

 I missed the chance to lug my leaky bucket of grief up the cellar stairs:

Drops of spilt salty milk marked my path, my stumbling way.

For this lost secret passage I give this litany of thanks.

This is just to say

I list like a sinking ship, drifting past the tolling buoys that guard the shoals,

The cargo of woeful waste shifting fore and aft, leeward and windward.

For this heavy manifest of ballast I raise my voice in praise.

This is just to say

I burn in a late evening fire.  Clinkers of coal clog the blackened grate.  Smoke billows.

Ashes fill my mouth, their dry heat chokes my throat.

 For this scuttled song I cannot sing I heartily offer all I owe.

This is just to say

I wish I’d danced the river home, under the drunkards’ bridge, over Wedding Veil Falls.

Strutted and kicked on the slick mossy stone of the grist mill dam the night long.

For this chiveree of regret I lift my heavy head and heart, unbowed, my voice in song.