Thanksgiving
It is sunny on Thanksgiving.
The water has a gleam in its eye;
trees huddle close to share family secrets.
In the park, squirrels deal out their cards—
the stakes are brown and immeasurable.
The wind fills the cups of chimes
who all have been drinking a little too much,
who all have started drinking a few hours early.
Above, clouds watch and listen from the blue couch
of sky, slowly moving off when sea bird’s conversations
inevitably move to local and global politics.
From my porch I can see them all,
and before dinner can even be served
practice my prayers.
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