Sad Poets Society № 7

Feeling grateful with Ross Gay

Photo by Anthony Cantin on Unsplash

Welcome,

Let this month’s meeting of the Sad Poets Society commence. Today we’ll be discussing “Thank You” by Ross Gay. Let’s get into it.

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Thank You

BY ROSS GAY

If you find yourself half naked
and barefoot in the frosty grass, hearing,
again, the earth's great, sonorous moan that says
you are the air of the now and gone, that says
all you love will turn to dust,
and will meet you there, do not
raise your fist. Do not raise
your small voice against it. And do not
take cover. Instead, curl your toes
into the grass, watch the cloud
ascending from your lips. Walk
through the garden's dormant splendor.
Say only, thank you.
Thank you.

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Yesterday was my birthday. I completed thirty-one revolutions around our sun. I even started a project I’m calling…wait for it…Thirty-One (more on that in a later newsletter). After spending thirty-one years on this earth, my various birthdays have brought up a lot of different feelings. I’ve been hopeful, depressed, nostalgic, excited, and apathetic. I’ve had birthdays I’ll never forget and birthdays I can’t for the life of me remember. But on this birthday, I’m feeling grateful. I feel like saying thank you.

Thank you to the grass in my yard, which is never frosted but often crunchy, fried under the heat of the spring before the summer rains begin. Thank you to the blue jays, titmice, great horned owls, chuck-will’s-widows, mockingbirds, grackles, crows, red-bellied woodpeckers, mourning doves, cardinals, wrens, and all the other birds who inhabit my slice of paradise. Some are year-round residents, while others are only passing through. All of them create a symphony in the branches of oaks and pines. Thank you to The National, who released another album today. I’m listening to it now. Thank you to my cat, Nyx, who loves me and lets me love her in return. Thank you to all the things in this world that make up a life.