The yin and the yang, the fizzle, sizzle and bang
the sparkle, the circle, and line
oh, I am grateful for all, the short, tall, oddball,
the glass and the fuss and the wine.
The stable, unstable, the three-legged table
so long as there’s place it’s just fine.
The pins and the prongs, and the fork’s probably wrong -
but I’m grateful it’s still got tines.
The yen and the zen, the muddle, puddle and train,
the tunnel, the funnel, and the mine
yes, I’m grateful for all, the lunch, and punch, and bowl
the sweet and sour, and the saline.
For the opposeable thumb, for nations, and gums,
the presence of crowns and canines,
for problems and their knots, for perishable thoughts
I’m grateful, and they are all fine.
The fins and the fangs, the little, brittle, and slang
the spoken, and the broken sign
I’m grateful for all – the offer, its withdrawal,
the built-in angst with the design.
The pebbled, the cobbled, the barely-there wobble,
the slight shiver down a timid spine,
the brim and what it brings, but so long as it rings
I’m grateful, and it’ll all be fine.
The monks and the minx, the mindful and the rindful,
for links, sphinx, rinks and inclines,
and I’m grateful for the tangles, and the obtuse angles
between the insane and ensign.
The winks and the kinks, so many twenty somethings
oh I’m grateful each of them's fine.
The trickle and the fickle, and the inimical,
for cucumber pickles, and brine.
The jinx and the jingle, the singled, the tingled,
the unpowdered snub noses’ shine.
Oh, I’m grateful for all, the stride, stumble and fall,
the banyan, the baobab, the pine.
The junk and the jungle, the bungle and fungal,
the crumb and the crumble are fine.
The jug and the juggle, the rug, rig and wriggle,
I'm grateful for giggles and grapevines.
The binned and the banned; the brands planned and unplanned,
and the planets - now less than nine,
oh, I'm grateful for all, the mini- and mega- mall,
the cine complex and the cosine.
The cards, and the curdled, and the curt, and curtailed -
I'm grateful, and they'll be fine.
For the cycled and spun, the housing situation,
for roofs and rivers and road-signs.
The modes and the moods, the traffic and the graphic,
for manic praise and panicked whine.
Oh, I'm grateful for all - the shortcake and shortfall,
in the end, all things will turn out fine.
The customised suits, the promos of veg-and-fruits
the zooming in on the bovine,
should I be grateful for these? - the national trapeze,
the mundane defiling the divine.