Prayer for Saturday, Late March, Near the Brighton-Brookline Border

I can't decide if I think this is dumb or love it. Maybe a little of both.

Bless the pavement, brick, and concrete.
Bless amber bottles redeemed at five cents apiece.
Bless the mail carrier.

Bless the brass penguin,
the painted gnome.
Bless the home they guard.
Bless its tiny yard, its lawn – still dead.
Yes, bless.

Bless this blinding birch, echo of the snow.
Bless the sun that makes it gleam.
Bless all the trees with their naked branches,
roots burrowing through swollen dark soil,
buds soon to adorn their tips.

Bless dead leaves from last fall.
Bless the fall. Bless it all. Bless it all.

Bless this sweat that's sharp and salty on my lips.
Bless lips
Bless tongue.

Bless kissing and tasting.
Bless my own blood
blood that bubbles and races through narrow veins
clear like wine, thick like mud.

Bless these lungs
this rhythm, these breaths, these steps
these calves and ankles and quadriceps.
Bless these sneakers.
Bless tying laces.

Bless this hill I climb.
Bless this child I carry inside.
Bless the wild.
Bless time.

Bless the winds – still cool
but mild.

Bless the rain that will come tomorrow.
Bless memories of snow and dreams of the oceans.
Bless joy and sorrow.

Bless all the Jews, families,
walking home from their devotions.

Bless other joggers. Bless yuppies. Bless left turn only.

Bless dogs with jingling tags.
Bless $1 canvas bags.
Bless Washington Square.
Bless custom bridal alterations.
Bless the C-Line
and the B-Line too but maybe not as much
or maybe more because it probably needs all the blessings it can get.

Bless Jesse's Girl.
Bless a woman like that.

Bless parks with swings.
Bless croquet.
Bless today. Bless today. Bless today.

Bless cool water that hisses down my throat.
Bless these burning palms.

Bless no pants.
Bless going pee.

Bless me. Bless me. Bless me.