I'm doing it again

Sweet, gentle 'thank you's delicately whispered to crisp winter air

Breath forms a steamy incense as it passes through my lips

Always I come back to this

Though I am less and less sure how it works

Sometimes I'll be driving

Holding the steering wheel as a sacred relic

"Thank you"

It's not always focused or for anything in particular

When it is, the objects of my thanks are small and consistent and many

I listen as the rubber drones on the asphalt; deep and low and steady

Somewhat Gregorian

It always feels like there's a listener

One being thanked

Lately

Progressively

I see them nodding with approval

Not to say, "you're welcome"

More like

They know and delight in how healing this is for me

I am less and less sure how it works

Tonight I stand on crisp snow

In a freshly shoveled driveway

For the fifth fucking night in a row

Incense breath envelops my face

Stars dance

The new snow insulates sound and provides a holy pause

"Thank you"