Thanksgiving
Dawn curls her lips shyly this foggy morning
Gone is the twinkling of her pearly white spring
Gone are the greedy songbirds herded away
Their perches now bare of whim and whimsy
Cherish your larder as does the ant who dances
Welcome warmheartedly all of Gravity's prances
He has furies of voids to fill, each moment anew
For the seeds that pull through with you, renew
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