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.