Meryl Natchez


At first, to be alive is all you need.
The sweet bitterness of coffee,
the hand with the umbrella,
the blanket’s warmth
as you step from the wing
of the plane afloat on icy water
onto the deck of the rescue boat.
Even the air’s sharp sting 
on the skin of your checks 
is welcome. But soon
you begin to miss your laptop,
your keys, the numbers
stored in your phone.
This is the daily wonder,
to take life for granted
each time 
it’s restored to you.