Thanksgiving poems—because we find ourselves feeling full and thankful, even about playing with words.
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A Poet’s Thanks
Off in another city, or maybe a clean quiet town
with brick homes and front yards of rhododendrons,
bloomless azaleas, you are doing something today.
Are you a cook? Is it you who’s involved in peeling,
slicing, stuffing, baking? Or maybe you are with a book,
or a child is playing at your feet.
I am here, playing with words, my heart filled with something
you could call thankfulness, but which is much wider than that.
Something which says, you didn’t need to make room for this—
the onions, the beets, the linen closet, the river and the copper
Palisades. Your life was full without my words, but you’ve held me
in a space out back, near the red tree, and I am like a flute
set amidst the leaves, singing when the wind moves through.
Photo by Bernhard Friess, Creative Commons, via Flickr. Poem by L.L. Barkat, author of The Novelist: A Novella. This poem first appeared in Every Day Poems
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Laurie Flanigan says
Love this poem!
Elizabeth W. Marshall says
Beautiful…so very beautiful.
Lexanne Leonard says
Thank you for the lovely words. I am thankful for poetry.
L. L. Barkat says
Thanks for the kind words. 🙂
Maureen Doallas says
Gorgeous and deeply meaningful. Wishing you a joyous Thanksgiving, Laura.
L. L. Barkat says
Thanks so much, Maureen. And to you! 🙂
Bethany R. says
Completely love this, L.L. “You didn’t need to make room for . . . the linen closet . . .”
Love the idea of getting out the special tablecloth for others
and
“Your life was full without my words, but you’ve held me
in a space out back, near the red tree, and I am like a flute”
I mean, how beautiful.
Happy Thanksgiving, L.L. and dear Tweetspeak Poetry community!
Jody Collins says
Oh Laura, this is so beautiful…. especially the last line, “….singing when the wind moves through.”