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Happy Thanksgiving
In the folly of my
life
I run and hide as
much as possible.
I also at times walk
right towards the
problem.
The statement was
not just meant for
the terminally ill:
Everyday is a
miracle.
Gratitude should be
the last remaining
nutrition for the
soul.
Even in the horrid
way
We may feel we
played,
We lumber through
such grace.
We catch corner
lights
Distracted by the
Great Glory.
Sampling and
stumbling,
The folly is the
right-hereness of
it.
I am you and you are
me.
Love of each other
sparks opportunity.
I wiggle through my
wounds
Paused in shafting
glows over morning
Fences, caroused by
the spirit to
further The
frightening flame.
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