Merit

Why me? What did I do

to deserve this?

A blue September sky

and the scent of late-blooming 

honeysuckle and roses,

the maple just starting 

to flash red and --who knew--

a second crop of raspberries

starting to ripen on the vine.

What have I ever done that merits

the generosity of rain

and the way the world opens 

into green? I mean, I have tried 

to be kind, but not like the 

cherry tomatoes, blushing

and turning sweet and 

giving themselves away 

by the handful.  Of course

I don't deserve this, any more

than you deserve fire or flood 

or sickness or heartache. There is no

math for this, no equation

that balances the equal sign.

Only this outpouring 

of all that is, the waterfall

we stand under, and drink from,

and try not to drown.

--Lynn Ungar