Poem #24 of 30. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
I step outside for a moment
into the crisp midnight air.
A haze of high clouds
slips silently over
a ringed, glowing moon.
I can smell wood smoke
adrift on the dark.
listening to the stillness
until the chill brings me to shivers.
Coming back into light and warmth.
I am wrapped in
the thick sweet scent
of pumpkin pies
cooling on the counter,
and the cinnamon laden apple slices
slowly cooking into tomorrow's breakfast.
A smattering of other ingredients
lies scattered on the kitchen table,
patiently waiting for dawn.
The family is snug asleep.
Tomorrow I know we'll drag out
old bespattered recipe cards
in our annual ritual
of giggling kitchen mayhem, told
and re-told stories, and shared connections.
But tonight...tonight I stand in serene solitude,
sending down roots, and feeling
of the year.
Can you REALLY fight the frump?
22 hours ago