Thanksgiving, a poem

©KLarson 2011

All rights reserved

Thanksgiving

It’s Thanksgiving weekend.
Here in Canada.

A quiet time of family
and turkey dinners,
table games and catching
the last glory of Fall,
pretending that the snow
won’t come, but feeling
its  icy kiss brush your cheek
as you kick through fallen leaves
while holding  tight to the hand
of someone you love.

It’s a time for last weekends
at the lake, last hikes on trails
gone to gold from green;
a time for Northern Lights
and sitting around a fire under
a big dark sky. It’s trail rides
and one more time out on the boat;
it’s driving dusty country roads
in search of one perfect tree,
one the winds haven’t
yet stripped naked of autumn’s splendor,
for that ever elusive family photo,
the one that there’s always
next year for.  And,
if this is not the year, no matter;
the heart will capture what
needs remembering.

It’s Thanksgiving.
Here, in Canada.

7 thoughts on “Thanksgiving, a poem

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