As a poet, I try to savor the moment in gratitude

“It is only with gratitude that life becomes rich.” – Dietrich Bonhoeffer

One of my favorite poems by the famous American poet Robert Frost derives its title from the poem’s final line:

Nature’s first green is gold,Her hardest hue to hold.Her early leaf’s a flower;But only so an hour.Then leaf subsides to leaf,So Eden sank to grief,So dawn goes down to dayNothing gold can stay.

Frost utilizes the profundity of his seemingly simplistic signature style to adopt a nimbly, condensed rhythm and rhyme scheme in portraying the stark reality that all of life's joys are fleeting and that the appearance of their permanence is illusory.

In making his point the poet draws our attention to the first deep hues of green that color the new leaves of spring as they bud, then burst forth, with new life. This "first green" is nature's equivalent of gold, the color and precious metal that, in symbol and actuality, embodies wealth and permanence in all its fullness.

Frost serves as a reminder that this golden rush of life vanishes just as swiftly as it appeared. Nothing lasts forever; nothing made of gold can endure, just as dawn gives way to day.

So we should savor every moment.

The bestselling author and neurologist, Dr. Oliver Sacks, studied and passionately engaged with, the most bizarre neural connections in the human brain, and wrote captivatingly about the fundamental concepts of human endeavor: evolution, creativity, memory, time, and consciousness.

His contributions to theater, opera, and Hollywood all endure thanks to the tales he delivered.

Sacks came under criticism for writing about his patients from those who thought he was occasionally a better writer than physician.

Having avidly read Sacks, through the years, I would strongly disagree.

When I first read him, the pleasure of heightened perception that lurks in Sacks’ work —in his poetry of precision —was a revelation.

Having incurred a disabling injury recently, I revisited his work throughout my recovery and began to feel that his writing had a distinctly giving quality—a message I had only of late been able to hear—that was particular and special.

We all reside, I believe, someplace deep inside our own brains and our perceptions of the outside world are filtered according to the distinctive nature of our consciousness.

Though his perceptions imply that disease, especially a very serious illness, are part of the adventure of being alive, reading Sacks continues to be soothing. Similar to how visiting my own neurologist may be therapeutic, Dr. Sacks’ descriptions about his patients' experiences are calming. Sacks seems to be on my side; his concern and compassion for others are not lost on me.

Even when things are challenging, appreciation can still be present. One can be angry or in pain while also feeling grateful. One thing can be the only thing for which you feel thankful.

Writing this now I am mostly feeling grateful. Life is rich. Both I and others have loved, and lost. I've received a lot and given a little in return. Most importantly, I've had the honor and adventure of existing as a sentient being—a thinking animal—in this fine and lovely world.

Michael Seeger is a poet and educator residing in Cathedral City. Prior to his life as a middle school English instructor, he worked as a technical writer for a baseball card company and served as a Marine infantry officer during Desert Storm. Email him at Hemingwayhero@dc.rr.com.

This article originally appeared on Palm Springs Desert Sun: As a poet, I try to savor the moment in gratitude