Thanksgiving, 2012

My spirit, a russet oak leaf,

swirls to November’s windy wand,

swept along in a homeward spell.


Brushing by the old ones,

I, again, am green, though briefly so.

For we all change hues in autumn’s breeze.


And the heat of held hands

and thankful hearts

has cut away the cold.


Stuffing ourselves with the gravy of good,

we laugh again at dinnertime,

and for dessert, we cry…


True colors show

around the table

in the fall of the year.


“Now Thank We All Our God…”

for the time of turning.