Thanksgiving poem

sunrise:  6:45

A happy day of thanks to all 

for everything that's good:

for things that fly and swim and crawl, 

for soil and stone and wood;

for water in its every form 

without which all would die,

likewise for daylight from the warm

bright sun that fills the sky.

Give thanks for yellow, red and blue

and all the color wheel,

for ears to hear and eyes to view, 

for taste and smell and feel;

for work that's meaningful to do

with hands or heart or mind, 

for every loving act that grew 

from acts equally kind.

Let's even give a nod of thanks

to life's sad sister death.

Without that sister's painful pranks

there'd be no more new breath.

For every chance we find to sit 

with even one companion

and share some food and talk a bit

and make the meal a grand one,

give thanks to care and thanks to share

a moment with a friend.

The greatest thing is not so rare:

It's love, that's all.  The end.

Robin Clifford Wood

November 25, 2010