a Thanksgiving poem

On this day of thanksgiving
I will give thanks
for clouds

and the linings of clouds,
for bare feet in grass
and painted toenails.
For blues above and greens below,
for trees (oh trees, I could write

an entire book giving thanks for trees)
and birds and baby animals of all kinds.

For taste and all things good and edible.
For open eyes and hands closed around hands.

For distances
and coming closer
and time and learning
to be patient when it is
so so hard to wait.

For books and those who write them,
for a warm fire or cold drink,
for everything natural
and brown and dirty
that gets under your fingernails.
For hellos and gravel roads
and a first glimpse of a new place.
For trust and all it leads to
and for old friends.
For passionate fighting
and loves of all kinds,
for goodbyes

and family eating around a table,
even if a few of you wish you were

somewhere else, thank God that you are there

and here and wherever you will be tomorrow.

Pale green stars

The two of us lay side
by side facing each other.
She suckles contentedly.

I take a deep breath trying
to relieve my tension and breathe
love and comfort
into her.

The worst thing about our fighting
is worrying that she can feel it.
That we are scarring her,
creating some deep issue
that will one day rise up and make us
wish to God we had been better
in her early years.

These days I can’t feel anger
without bringing along with it
worry and guilt.

She signs and turns
releasing my nipple.

I move carefully,
slowly, so as not to
wake her.

I emerge from the dark bedroom
ready for another evening of
anger and avoidance

but thankfully my stubborn
heart pushes the issue
and we talk
and he sees
and I sigh again,
this time with relief
and much warm air.

I hope that the girl can feel it
from her darkened room
under pale green stars.