The trees can hardly breathe in November
They heave and ho in wind and weather
Just let me be, just let me go

But a pink sky helps heavy burdened hearts
Wake from slumber, seek warmth
Open eyes, lift them skyward

We are all fragile in fall
Seeking familiar faces and places
Burrowing and begging to borrow bravery

We walk home weary-wounded
Wishing a welcome that makes us alright
A place we belong, at least for the night

feast table

This sight, it lifts the saddest soul
A table laden with abundance of wealth
Rosy cheeks, ruffled hair, warm hands, health

Thanksgiving is here and not a day too soon
To lift the fog, to lift the gloom
I bow my head to pray, to praise

The trees, they see the light and cheer
Can’t help but whisper, soft but clear
I’ll stay, I’m here.
Me too. Me too.

Happy Thanksgiving, Darlings

Images via Monica Outcalt


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