Thursday, November 23


The sun has returned
this Thanksgiving morning,
warming Mother and child

I am a pauper, indebted to your rays
of respite from dark awakenings...
restored, even if for one day

I am thankful for you,
with all our starts
and stops
and starts anew…
you remain as constant as breath

You are the banquet table
on which I feast,
‘tho yesterday, there
lingered only the slightest taste
of you in my mouth

It was enough to sustain me
when there was but dust
on pantry shelves

I am grateful for gnawing hunger
entreating you break
fast in brilliance over the Ridge,
through barren arms of a forest once green
hastening o’er a meadow of sparkling gems
spilling into my soul


Anonymous said...

What a gorgeous Thanksgiving present. Thanks for the poetic sunshine, sunshine! xo, V.

KC said...

I know this is not a competition but when I read something as brilliant as this, I almost want to put away my keyboard and leave the words to artists such as you. Note, however, that I said "almost" so I click away and remain grateful that you are far ahead yet still within sight of a fellow poet pilgrim.

helen said...

Thanks so much for sharing some of the beauty within you, and the beauty of the Ridge. I hope that you had a wonderful Thanksgiving time.