Blessed be my well-thumbed Thesaurus
Its missing Index of x, y, and z
Random pages tea splattered and ink assaulted
What hours spent on the hunt for the perfect word
Like a bloodhound snuffling quarry  

Blessed also my metal strainer
Handles dearly departed to some scrap heap
Dented and waffle-faced apparatus  
A lifetime of sieving enough spaghetti
To feed all of Italy  

Blessings to my alarm clock
Second hand lying dead on the bottom
Like a discarded silver toothpick
Alarm now just a lover’s whisper
Nibbling my sleepy ear  

And blessed be this spent body
Knees like a rusty gate
Mind a sputtering choke engine
Frayed and graying relic
The ruins of some once-great society  

May we find value in what we are
Not in what we lack
May we, like the sun, rise and give light
Flaring our colors wildly
Before we tuck into darkness