Author note: This poem was originally written two years ago. I realize that Thanksgiving was unique this year. However maybe we can use this to remember the good times past and hope for better times to come. . . .
This year the feast is at your house, and you will be the host. You want it to be perfect, but not so you can boast; It’s just with all the family, there will be quite a crowd And you want serve a special meal to make the Pilgrim’s proud!
Worthless, crumpled little leaf— Cast off without a care; Set upon the listless wind, Carried here and there. You’re not but nature’s clutter To disgrace a pristine lawn; The only want we give you Is we want you good and gone! And the Lord within the Manor Sees you only as a chore; He’ll have to rake and bag you Which is irksome all the more.
As you walk the lonely road. . . Mile after mile Without expected blessing, This may be your trial. But if you’ve done what you can And still must wait awhile; Don’t give up my faithful friend— Delay is not denial.
Easter, yes, that holiday That signals start of spring— That marks rebirth, renewal, And all that sort of thing. It brings bouquets of flowers In yellows, pinks, and blue, And cheerful eggs that have been dipped In dye of every hue.