i can hear it now -the pine needles making a soft carpet and the leaves rustling,
dancing with their partners and laying with the soft crunches.
and there were rivers, rustling along the beds and laughing,
growing deeper and flowing to the sea.

we’d pile in the car, and run through the forest,
let the cool air kiss our faces, run shivering to warm buildings,
drink the warm cider and wrap scarves around each other.
it was warmer than summer would ever be.

i can see it now -the sunlight streaming through the trees,
trees and rivers i learned to make time for,
and us holding hands as we looked for directions,
the road stretching before us and hills rolling with golden leaves.

sunlight streamed through my classroom windows,
as i ran to school in boots, stepping towards my friends,
sitting huddled with each other,
because we felt whole.

i can smell it now -the fires, soft and warm and comforting.
we’d stop at these towns, low river towns, and look around in awe.
how could you live here, where the leaves are always gold? where the cold river runs so deep?
where the drink are so warm? where the clouds hang above you?

have you seen the sea in autumn? it turns grey and the sky grows cold. yet, the boat rides,
in the stinging sea air, seem all the more fun. and yet, the market smells all the more warm,
as the children walk around in wonderment,
gloved hands clutched tightly with their parents.

i can breathe it in now -the loneliness of a world that seems to be in it’s twilight,
but in reality is simply content to drive the mornings away, stopping to see cold buildings,
and allow the leafy afternoons to sink into an evening, where the lamps turn on,
and we sit in watch the stars in the gorge at night.

now, i remember, how much i loved all of you. we could listen to soft banjo music,
eat our sandwiches in the warm car, dress up and step into the autumn chill,
we’d explore any village and taste their hot chocolate, then stay as long as we wanted.
and then we’d move on.

And those arms,
they were big enough for us all,
though you wouldn't have thought it by looking at them.
One ****** Thanksgiving night,
when all the other children slept
turkey-filled dreams,
we wept in those arms.
She wrapped us tight,
so that the events of the night
wouldn't hurt us any longer.
One ******, Thanksgiving night,
she did her best to make everything all right.

Thanksgiving day.
One we truly can not forget.
With the thin air of winter coming through,
The mist cold and wet.
The candles burn bright,
As we dig into this neat feast.
Our faces stuffed up,
Until we can not eat.
We are thankful for everything that would take too long,
Just to say.
Oh we are thankful for it all,
On Thanksgiving day.

A four hour drive to the land of steady habits
A glass of wine turns into eight
A late drive through the mountains
We're no longer in the garden state.

A card game spread across the table
Family here and family afar
Songs of Johnny Cash and Willie
A familiar face of a one eyed pup
Cats scattering across the floor
A bed under the teeth of the piano
And Christmas lights on the stairs.

The clock strikes twelve
We're watching a family of raccoons eat their Thanksgiving dinner
While everyone else is asleep.

It's been about a week since the divorce finalized.
Sleep has fled my eyes, and I've wanted to cry
So emotional tension can leave me and let be myself and I.

Is there any other reason to steer clear
Of my co-worker's relationship troubles and fear
While on the outside I smile and pretend to hear
Than to continue being friendly over a beer?

At least I've got a financial break.
I've got a lot of money to make
Waiting tables for five days. It can take
A lot out of me, but it's worth the physical pain at stake.
My knees are sore, and my feet might break
From all the walking. And from putting up with all kinds of stupid requests and complaints
It's a wonder I don't get baked.

At the end of the day, I may not thrive,
But I'm lucky I still got a will to survive.
So this Thanksgiving week I didn't crash drive
When I could have, and it makes me glad to be alive.

the turkey stretches his n--e----c-------k
unleashing praises stuffed in his breast
like a rapid-fire machine gun

when the next Thanksgiving
is still far off

i sit across a redwood
familiar strangers
who hear themselves asking how i am
but never hear me answering
i sit behind a redwood
tip tapping feet in the shadow
they want to tip tap on out
i sit beside redwoods
others with their own familiar strangers
who hear themselves asking how they are
but never hear them answering
strange how we bond over
the fact that no one
is bonding
happy thanksgiving to my
unfamiliar kin
here’s to another year of
never being thankful until
we feel guilty
about it.

i wonder if
what i do or
don’t do
will change the way you
think of me
look at me
feel about me
why do i have such
a tendency to feel
lonely only when i’m
not alone?
i’m thankful for so much
but not much at all
is thankful
for me.