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Thanksgiving
Chill wind whispers through trees,
The trembling song of falling leaves,
Clutching to its length by just one finger.
The Earth leaps into flame,
Its color racing from tree to tree,
Leaf to leaf,
Eagerly consuming the world in fiery hues.
And we sit,
A touch intoxicated with red wine and family,
Gluttonous with stuffing and chatter,
Our cheeks red from cold weather or pinching,
No one really knows.
The bones of a great meal lie before us.
The decimated carcass of a half eaten turkey,
Some grease on the bottom of a bowl once filled with stuffing,
The remnants of the green bean casserole.
All thats left is migration to the living room,
The slackening of jaws and minds,
The eager flow of words and debate,
And the absentminded rubbing of our stretched stomachs.
We watch as the early night smothers the flaming world.
Slowly rending the red, and orange, and gold of our surroundings into ash.
Such sights and sounds envelope me,
Wrap me in the steamy comfort of hot food, family, and brisque weather.
Such things as these warm my heart.
And for these things I am thankful.
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I wrote this poem for my poetry club, not expecting to like it or think that it was good, but I ended up being wrong. I ended up actually liking what I wrote and wanting to share it.