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 (o 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 kind
and 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.