November 22 Ablaze
It's mornings like this;
The stingy sun trying to hold back
Even the warmth of its reflection
Flashing coldly In the lake.
When November leaves drop in sudden gusts,
Like a red and yellow flock of birds
Swooping at once to ground.
Or even nights:
When winds reach wet hands
To take you spinning with random paper
Down back street gutters, under straining bridges
To clogged rivers.
The time of year, along with spring,
When poets must take care
Not to sing the same old songs
Stolen from tribal memory.
- Thomas R. Drinkard
Today I am thankful for …
- the cool touch of a November morning
- the quiet anticipation of holiday chaos
- the blessing of time and stories shared with friends.
For what are you thankful?