Buried alive in the blues
All the ways you can choose
Wherever you look there’s
Bad news and thick smoke
Just hold onto some myoho
That may be the best
One can aspire to
Yearning bears the seeds of forgetting
Let the dying yellow bleed into pale green
Late autumn now looks indistinguishable
From early spring when everything
Is said and done
From the meridian
We stand equidistant
The trees all but bare
With a blush of hope
Either before or after
The most vivid colors
This is the point to
Which we have come
It’s all in the giving
The expectancy for tomorrow
That faint lump you feel
In the back of the throat
********************
On this morning's walk I was struck by the incredible resemblance of late autumn to early spring -- something I never noticed before -- when the leaves are all but stripped bare, it's the moment when the dying yellow bleeds into pale green. That's what this Poem for Thanksgiving is all about.
