Monday, November 23, 2015

November 23: Thanksgiving Poems, Linda Pastan, "Home for Thanksgiving," "Ives" Dip, Off the Top of My Head

I have decided to feature Thanksgiving poems this week.  Of course, the challenge is finding good Thanksgiving poems.  Poems that aren't one step away from a Hallmark card.  So, don't be surprised to see Sharon Olds and Billy Collins this week.

But, for today...

Home for Thanksgiving

by:  Linda Pastan

The gathering family
throws shadows around us,
it is the late afternoon
Of the family.

There is still enough light
 to see all the way back,
 but at the windows
that light is wasting away.

Soon we will be nothing
but silhouettes: the sons'
as harsh
as the fathers'.

Soon the daughters
will take off their aprons
as trees take off their leaves
for winter.

Let us eat quickly--
let us fill ourselves up.

the covers of the album are closing
behind us.

It has been a busy day.  Work.  Doctor's appointment.  Interview at the library for an upcoming reading.  And now, blogging and grading and writing.  I am going a little crazy every day.  I have not really relaxed since my vacation started.  Maybe I'll give myself Thanksgiving off.  Or maybe I'll just lapse into a turkey coma.

I am thankful this evening that I have only two more days to work this week.  Two more days of toil and stress.  Come Wednesday night, when I'm putting my pecan pies in the oven, I will be ready for a little Thanksgiving cheer.

I have a question about another project I have to complete this week:

Will I get my Christmas essay finished this week?

And the answer from the Good Book of Ives is:

Then they were silent.  They walked up a stretch of the block, across the way from the projects, a nerve-racking experience, even with a guard in a booth, because people were always getting held up, sometimes stabbed on that street.  They had reached Broadway when Robert added, "You know, sometimes I think about what it would be like to be dead.  All I know is that He will be waiting.  It scared me for a long time, but you know what, Pop?  It doesn't anymore."

Well, that's a pretty good answer.  Robert is no longer afraid of death.  He knows he'll be safe, under God's care.  I have been anxious for several days about getting all my work done.  I just need to take a deep breath, relax, and do my best.

Saint Marty has things under control.  Sort of.  Maybe.

Off the Top of My Head

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