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Song of the Harvest Home

Under contented twilight memories, my childhood harvest home abides in chrysanthemum hues
Two story home on a quiet street behind a fence decorated by my grandmother’s roses - 
Dressed up in sleet, sometimes snow, maybe rain, even icy sunbeams 
Midst the warmest benediction, blessings gathered from fields and orchards yield
Our wide door flung open like hovering wings to gather in extensions of abundant bounty -
Transforming the harvest round a table extended by oaken leaves Granddad at the head of table,
Generations take their seats to bow their heads in loud amens of celebration grace – 
Scents of cinnamon and of sage, harmony and dysfunction, at their places
Setting ageless wisdom like silverware - dreams to sparkle like crystal glasses 
An understanding unspoken – always a place for those alone on this holiday – now adopted - 
New family welcomed by fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, aunts and uncles - cousins 
Loud debates swirling like cream in coffee over pie and Grammie’s applesauce cake,
Closely guarded stories of the cousins raiding relish trays, wearing olives on fingertips 
A turkey taking flight across the kitchen floor – raspberry jelly retrieved from basement larder -
A box of chocolates anticipated - Jordan almonds in my pocket
Memories of the year when pot pies replaced the bird – not repeated – thank you Lord - 
Giggles over washing dishes as playing cards appeared on blanket covered tables
Before a warming fire where my heavy eyes relished this genesis of jubilee, a “normal?” family
Our voices raised in the song of a harvest home around a slightly out of tune piano. 

11/9/20
Contest: Thanksgiving
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh

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