I am grateful for queer community. Marita and eep(!)ing and Autumn and Jessiface and Capitol Hill and public dyking out and going to a writing workshop on bodylove and remembering listing “bodylove” years ago on my LiveJournal profile. I’m grateful for circles and how things come around again and again although sometimes they shapeshift. I’m grateful for a very fine romance and budding love with Amanda and grateful that she sometimes takes my breath away and grateful for the sound of children giggling. I’m grateful for the idea to write about gratitude. I’m grateful for good coffee and blank books and high quality ink pens. I’m grateful for community circles drawn together for love of the moon, for magick and candles and rattles and music. Grateful for lotion and soft skin and hot showers and soap sliding over her suppleness, and tongue-kissing and flannel sheets and laughter at bad horror flicks. I am so grateful for friendship, for learning about relationship, for learning how to listen, for having an open and absorbent heart. I am grateful for my literacy, for reading books in autumn-framed cafe windows with the sound of coffee grinders and background conversations about the environment and conversations about music and conversations about the election. I am grateful that I have a cell phone–that help is a few button-pushes away. That help is always on the way. That I don’t have to walk alone. I am grateful that my needs have been provided for thus far and that given the trend, will continue to be provided for. I am grateful for doing my passionwork and being of service. I am grateful that my bag contains poetry, pruners, a wool hat, and tickets for the Bent Showcase in which I will perform a piece about The Word. I’m grateful for words.