Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving.
A day for loss.
Acute awareness of what isn't
To be grateful for what there is
With the ever delicate balance sheet
Any moment liable to switch

I'm not toasting to tomorrow
Not singing songs of the past
Only this moment I'm standing on
A dinner-plate sized platform
Already slipping fast

Some years the whole gangs here
Trading wine for melancholy in my cup
When other years this date in October
Slips out through the backdoor
Excusing herself with nary a word

But determined Time
keeps the march forward
Leaving nothing in this world
as something to hold on to

Freedom.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s