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