08 Gratitude - Poem by Saiom Shriver
Little Tree, Little Tree, I wonder where you are
to thank you for the sweet pink fruit you did weave
from distant star.
Birds chirp and cheep above the school chapel, for Chips
no longer serves chops to the chaps.
Tiny wisps, the many teats on the grey cloud..
who nurses the trees as she passes out of form.
Every day at six heures we thank God for enkindling Cesar
Winter when God's unseen gift of breath becomes visible.
The horse has run her heart out for her 'owner''s bank
account.. and her reward? the slavery of a stall
A heavy storm... squirrels thankful.. for pine cones have landed..
near their laps
Six Heures is to Cesar Chavez, the UFW, and all the unions
and individuals who have helped with victories
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