Giving Thanks
I once looked into the eyes of a Dungeness crab
as it sat in the cool pool of water in my sink, waiting
for its destiny.
I think it knew that its bath was drawn not as a kind gesture
nor a ritual that promised sweet dreams
in slumber. And so
I thanked it as I gazed at its soul through the tiny black beads
of its eyes, for the grace exemplified
in its acceptance
and preparation for such a callous moment.
Later as I dined, consuming crustacean memories,
I was astonished
to find that I quite enjoyed a dish I once disliked.
I was convinced that my brief connection with the crab
played a role. That this
is part of the exchange when we pause to give thanks
before our meal, honoring the life forfeited
for our sustenance.
The capacity to form complex memories and apply learned knowledge
is apparently present in the brain cells of crustaceans,
scientists report.
Though doubtful, I hope that this crab grasped,
in his final moments, my deepest and most
sincere gratitude.
