This Thanksgiving

We hold on....

The first winter snow
does not arrive as
a poem might with   
a whisper of white
that settles softly
into stillness.

No, the first winter
snow comes as a 
blustering storm
that batters the house
with the sting of a
cold, cutting wind.

Seems fitting this
year that the weather
mirrors the stirring of 
so many hearts.

And yet we gather
anyway around the 
table with those we
love, holding on,
holding each other and 
giving thanks.  

And in the act of gathering 
and holding, there is
a slow turning towards
joy in the soft glow
of a candle’s light.
I am grateful.