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THE WAX CRIES WITH HAPPINESS

Mom’s up early with the plucked bird, stuffing it.
The bare rinsed butterball, portions for six.
All day our mouths water, stomachs pitching a fit,
as we wait for the skin to crisp...delicious drumsticks.

Potatoes peeled and pressured, mashed, stirred
with butter, milk, salt and pepper...licking lips.
Jolly Green Giant beans heated, (sixties were absurd)
Likewise the floop from a tin can...cranberry flips.

Father and son, thankful for the football game. I
just hear static. Mother’s in her apron, sweating.
I just remember sights, smells, sounds...I sigh.
The basics of love — the cornucopia begetting.

Afterwards our bellies ballooning, but there’s pies,
piled with apple, rhubarb or cherry and Cool Whip.
The table adorned with long candles - the wax cries
with happiness. The unsetting done with thankful lips.

11/11/2019
Thanksgiving Memory Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina Riddle

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