, ,

This year there is no feast to prepare

This year there are just he and me

This year is a break from the usual


And yet I’m awake before the dawn

This is how I always give thanks

Some traditions insist on being met


I watch out the windows as the world turns

Too early for the sing-song of birds

Too dim for intrusion of human edifice


I watch until the dark becomes light

Until the deer notice a house in their midst

Until the outlines of individual trees emerge


On other mornings, these hours contain the cares of my world

On Thanksgiving, I look out and see

No care weighing on deer, or birds, or squirrels, or trees


I look and look

As I look, I breathe and breathe

I am alive with the world and give thanks


I watch long enough to see the world turn

I awake to take notice of being alive

Some traditions insist on being met