The Fourth Thursday in November
Laughter rolls
in from outside
where cousins play
Laughter bakes
into the cornbread
where cooks gossip
Crying onions
bubbling gravy
crackling turkey
All parade to the table
where we hold hands
in fidgety anticipation
As grandmother blesses
the feast and chats with Jesus
while our tummies grumble
The poem above is a collaboration with my friends at Charles House inspired by some Thanksgiving poetry I read to them, including James Whitcomb Riley, Joy Harjo and, of course, Lydia Marie Child.
And at the risk of seeming like a sentimental old fool, I am thankful for you, my dear readers. Happy Thanksgiving.
Love it!!!
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I’ll pass your compliments along to the crew.
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Happy Thanksgiving . Enjoy💕
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And to you, Grace.
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💕🙏💕
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Happy Thanksgiving💙
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Grazie, Luisa!
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🙏🌷🙏
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Happy Thanksgiving 😊
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Happy Black Friday, Sirishty!
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Bittersweet. Takes me back to Thanksgivings when my parents were still alive—and old traditions that will never be gain. 💙
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Yeah, the holidays get more bittersweet as we age. But you can always start new traditions based on the old.
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True, but it’s hard to do when I have only one child—long grown and gone—who is married to a person whose religion doesn’t celebrate holidays.
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But holidays are the only good reason to choose a religion!
If you’re really feeling the lack of tradition, perhaps it’s time to expand your family beyond genetics.
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Thanksgiving dinner from a child’s eyes, lovely. My tummy is rumbling too.
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Excellent. That was our goal.
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👍
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Giving thanks….
http://www.spanglefish.com/berniesblog/blog.asp?blogid=16029
“….perhaps it’s time to expand your family beyond genetics.” Just so, and I give thanks for your way with words Bart.
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Thank you, Bernie. It was just a suggestion and definitely not for everyone but there is value in traditions and in modifying them.
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The stomach’s response… to a long prayer…!
🇯🇲🏖️
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That was the memory from one of the Charles House client’s that we were referencing in the poem. So glad that was received!
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