This is my monthly allotted steal from Writer’s Almanac.  This poem makes me feel very celebratory about the bullshit I’m getting done today.

Praise

by Michael Chitwood

       Physical therapists have opened a clinic in the office next to mine.

This morning one of them is treating a cystic fibrosis patient. The

patient lies face down on a table, and the therapist slaps up and down

the back with open hands. It loosens the mucus building up in the

lungs. Through the wall, it sounds like one person giving a long,

determined standing ovation.

       Finally, I’ve listened long enough and go out for a walk. The church

 across the street has just reseeded its lawn, and the caretaker is trying

 to shoo away pigeons that are feeding in the straw.

        “Get! Get!” he shouts, and claps his hands.

        The pigeons rise in unison and swirl away with a sound like gloved applause.

 

“Praise” by Michael Chitwood, from From Whence. © Louisiana State University Press, 2007.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s