On Thanksgiving For what shall we be thankful, we humans who keep hurting ourselves and one another in our tragic pursuit of happiness? For what shall we be grateful? For every blessed thing — not just the shiny easy happy things, the turkey with stuffing, the sweets. For what shall we be thankful? For a nor’easter in October, for power lost and power restored, for burnt sienna leaves against a cobalt blue sky, for anxious eyes above a mask For the raucous sparring of blue jays at the feeder and the deadly precision of a red-tailed hawk, For the fog of confusion, the sting of disappointment, the rumble of regret. For the weight of sorrow on the chest, the ache of breath bone muscle. For what shall we be thankful? for every blessed thing, for every blessed thing