thanksgiving

Thanksgiving Symphony

geese

The goose orchestra is playing today on the lake,

A cacophony of sound

Tossed into the air by a brisk north wind,

Softened by the muffled wing flapping of late concert goers.

 

The gray sky and brown grass welcome the joyous music,

On an otherwise silent winter day,

As a thousand geese perform a symphony of gratitude,

For their safe arrival to our little lake of the south,

And we, with God, are listening.

                                                                                                                                                                                                Cerita M. Hewett
                                                                                                                                                   November 2005
                                                                                                                                               Revised November 2014

Thanks and Gobblers

(Thanks)

For butterfly wings and fluffy clouds,

                                    For sweet rose scent and tangy pickle juice,

                                                      For craggy rocks and soft warm sand,

                           For children’s hands.

                                    I thank thee Lord!

                                                                                    Cerita M. Hewett

                                                                                    (revised 2014)

 

(Gobblers)

 The great turkey gobbler makes a noise!

                           He gobbles at the girls.

                           He gobbles at the boys.

 

                           Though we run away from all that squabble,

                           We laugh until we nearly wobble,

                           Cause soon we’ll be the ones that gobbles!

                                                                                                                        Cerita M. Moore

                                                                                                                        About 1961

Harvest

                                          We ate thick vegetable soup,

                                          Sitting on the retaining wall,

                                          In the backyard.

                                         Plump piles of leaves

                                         Waited to be mower mulched,

                                         And wheel barreled to the garden,

                                         While we shared cracker,

                                        A kiwi,

                                       An apple.

 

                                     Sun soaked and work warmed,

                                     We talked of pecan harvest,

                                    Grown children,

                                    And Thanksgiving.

 

                                   Neither spoke of love,

                                  But we gathered it anyway.

                                                                                           Cerita M. Hewlett

                                                                                          December 3, 1997