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
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Six Heures is to Cesar Chavez, the UFW, and all the unions
and individuals who have helped with victories