Wrong turn too many miles ago
now we’re on back roads
crackling on the windshield
the sleet blankets the trees
drooping low over the black ice
as we search for the right way
that leads us back home
We follow the smells of sage stuffing,
cranberry relish and sweet potato pie
from deep in our memories
dragging us along the road
like a horse pulling a sleigh
through the white
and drifted snow
Yesterday I made my annual Thanksgiving poetry visit to Charles House where we read several holiday poems including Joy Harjo’s Perhaps the World Ends Here and Lydia Maria Child’s The New-England Boy’s Song about Thanksgiving Day from which we stole the last two lines of our collaboration above.
Happy Thanksgiving!

Really like this poem with it’s blending of many different Thanksgiving stories.
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Thanks, Pat! I tried to get us to write a Thanksgiving poem that didn’t involve food but in the end we decided it couldn’t be done.
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bueno!!
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Gracias!
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Well put together, like a family of holiday traditions and travels to grandparents home for the holidays. 💞✨🍁
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Fortunately, one of my friends there once drove back home in an ice storm thus providing the initial inspiration.
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Lovely images. I love that aromas could lead the way even through blankets of snow.
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Thanks! I’d like to think the memories of aromas could do that with ease.
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i like how you make us see the persona’s memories as compass here. beautiful piece 💜
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Thank you very much!
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