As I look around the room
A pleasing scene now greets my eyes:
A family is sitting ‘round
And pleasant warmth within them lies.

The youngest boy, his math in hand,
Is trying to work a complication;
Yet, he works without frustration,
In his eyes shines fascination.

Besides his son, the father sits
To give whatever help he needs,
Thus showing love borne for his boy
And for the family that he leads.

King David wrote a psalm, in which
He tells his soul to bless the Lord.
In other songs he said to “praise”,
A somewhat different choice of word.

We know to praise, for He is great
And sits enthroned in majesty;
By His own power, He self-exists,
No start, no end; eternity.

With just His words, He made the earth,
And shaped its features with His hand;
He made the sea, and in its midst
The pillars set for solid land.

The cloth sweeps against the floor,
Long ago embroidered with care, fit
For many people to admire while they ate.
Now white is red by drink and brown from gravy,
Grease-stained from spills and careless children. [5]
The plates are crooked on the edge,
Crumbs tumbling on the chairs, 
Which knock each other, knock the table, 
For those who sat in them, having devoured,
Abandon the mess and repose in other places. [10]
Once this barren table sparkled with wineglasses
Under the lamps overhead, electric and piercing.

Thanksgiving’s a wonderful time,

With game and food and rhyme.

To not thank the Lord for the year;

Must be a crime paid for, my dear.

Deep unfathomable depth of blue; the sky comes down to touch the very ground, waving with wheat sown and tended to grow, to fill the emptiness in our lives. Brown and golden, all shining like little beacons of light, glittering as they wave: Back and forth, together as one, an ocean of light.

And the wind blows, warm, scattering the dust, born from the heat. It travels through the cracks in the old barn, coating the floor with a light sand in which to make our footprints. The shadows within are cool: a musty alternative to the fresh air outside its walls. But sheltering.

For all good things, all blessings
known, unknown,
past, present, and future—
I give thanks to You,
Ruler over all things
and Giver of all good gifts,
dear Lord.

For my family
who knows me best
and sustains me
when the weather of the world
turns ill.

For devoted friends
who remind me
that it is good to live
in fellowship with others.

For a home
with a floor, walls, and a roof
to keep out the rain
and seperate the In from the Out.