I wake
as the sun penetrates
the gaps between the towering pines.

I hear my sister
cheer as the reindeer and elves
accompany large floats on screen.

I smell the fruit cobbler breakfast—
plump peaches, ripe raspberries, and sweet strawberries—
cooked to perfection and dusted with powdered sugar.

I answer the knock on the door.
“It’s so great to see you,” says Mom.
It’s uncle John with shrimp and c***tail sauce.

I turn on FOX
as a family of cheeseheads crowds the TV.
Cheers erupt as Rodgers Lambeau Leaps.

I wait as
stomachs growl louder than thunder
for the feast prepared in the adjacent room.

I say grace
thanking God for all of our blessings,
looking at our collection, waiting to be devoured.

I pile my plate
with tasty turkey, crunchy corn,
scrumptious stuffing, and jiggling jello, leaving no space between.

I feel the rush of hot air
pouring out of the oven as Dad removes
the crunchy apple and perfect pumpkin pies.

I take a sip
of scalding black coffee
and say goodbye to our guests.