Thanksgiving's not always the easiest holiday; there's a lot of history to consider, both personal and universal. Here's a short poem that reflects some of that.
Window shades lighten as dawn arrives gray light, chill. The house is quiet, still, each of us in our cocoons. Soon, the fire must be laid and lit. Shades lifted for the short day’s light. My heart is soft with long life, with all it knows about love and loss. My father, mother, strangers and friends, war and famine, disease and disaster. Yet comes day with its quiet joy stirring the blood and rousing me to prayer: may all beings be free from suffering. My riches are safety, warmth, shelter, food, health, and love. And knowing they are not free. They are not free.