Thanksgiving

From the first coy, flirty, flaming wave,
When maples hinted at the coming show,
Petticoats of sumac’s deep red ruffles swirled;
Aspen and willow flaunted golden glow.

The pirouette of leaves caught by the breeze
That scarcely changed the pattern of the dance,
But, on the ground, green grasses welcomed leaves
That skipped and twirled and charmed the passing glance.

Then, off come leafy garments, baring limb,
Taken unabashed by western wind and rain,
But staunch oaks in burgundy rust trim
Shelter in rustling foliage exposed terrain.

As the dawns begin to find the world more bare,
And warmth has fled along with shortening days,
Reflection on the harvest, evidence of care,
Brings forth a gratitude, a dance of praise.

And, as the winter starts to close its gate,
In warmth of family love our thanks to God we pray
And gather through the years to celebrate
The crown of harvest on Thanksgiving Day.