Forgive me if I did not give thanks for
the setting sun lighting flames
in all the windows across the lake,
the way love flares and falls to embers,
while the evergreens fold their arms
and the white birch whispers.
Forgive me for all the Creeping Charlie
I tore up by the roots despite its tiny purple blossoms.
Forgive me for my despair in the library
where I can never read all the great books
flaunting their spines before me.
Forgive me for all the chores I left undone
while I watched the way the pond water pooled
in the shade where the tadpoles formed and reformed
their own nervous shadow. I accomplished nothing.
Forgive me for all the beggars I never gave to
all the good causes I didn’t support, all the meetings
I skipped to hide away and read a book.
I did not save the world.