Mary E.W. Stephenson Poet Narrative

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving 1930

     Mama was running around the house trying to make space for everyone to lay their heads when the night draped the day.
     The house was jovial and laughter bang against the four walls like  a rushing tide against an embankment, and it filled the cracks with vibrating music.
     The aroma of baked turkey, ham, and yams live freely in the air with tobacco smoke. It was one of the most happiest and memorable day of my life.
    My cousins and I made thunderous cacophony while running through the house.
    The men in the family sat in the parlor in front of the fireplace sipping on papa's dandelion wine, and verbalizing their views on politics and agriculture.
     The women gathered in the kitchen to prepare the meal and exchange recipes.
     They knew everything significant about the world, according to them.
     They knew every poultice and herb to fix for just about any type of ailment.
     They knew and philosophized on the affairs of the heart.
     They knew the words of the Lord and quote them in their solicitous conversations.
     They were icons  

Excerpt from short story Pinstripe Suit
copyright Labyrinth of Life 2007. Labyrinth of Life is a compilation of short stories and poetry.

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July 4, 2016 at 3:15 PM Nice poem. It sounds a lot like my home when growing up:) Mary E.W. Stephenson July 4, 2016 at 3:59 PM Thank you. Nothing as wonderful as family and tradition.