Thanksgiving Guests

 

We never know who will join
the feast,
sometimes familiar faces,
sometimes strangers
we have never seen
before.

I don't cook for them,
but they may forage
on their own
where they will.
The menu is quite varied.
There is plenty for all.

The dining room looks
unkempt,
neglected even...
just how our guests like it.
We offer spaces to rest
when they are weary
and all the food they can eat,
sap, insects, seeds, berries,
and some lingering greenery,
everything a feast should offer 
hungry travelers.

November's bounty.
Thanksgiving with the wild ones.

Surprised by a Dawn Redwood

 

Surprised by a Dawn Redwood

gifted by a friend who had one 
to spare
and knew
I'd be grateful.

Gratitude,
that generous spirit
that sometimes surprises,
spilling
out into a weary world,
welcome as sunrise,
sowing kindness,
germinating
and rising
like new shoots
springing
from the dark earth
ever towards
the light.

November Woods

 This poem, by Patience Strong, is one of my favorites for this time of year, ushering in the transition of the seasons.

Lovely are the silent woods
on grey November days,
when the leaves fall red and gold,
upon the quiet ways.
From massive beech, majestic oak,
and birches white and slim,
like the pillared aisles of a cathedral
vast and dim.

Drifting mist like smoking incense
hangs upon the air.
Along the paths where birds once sang,
the trees stand stripped and bare.
Making Gothic arches, with their branches interlaced
and window-framing vistas
richly wrought 
and finely traced.

It is good to be in such a place
on such a day.
Problems vanish from the mind
and sorrows steal away.
In the woods of grey November,
silent and austere,
Nature gives her benediction
to the passing year.
            Patience Strong