Thanksgiving

It’s time for the annual posting of my poem “Thanksgiving,” which I wrote in 2002. (Details can be found on my Web site here.) May all my readers have a blessed and happy Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving

by Lionel Deimel

So many holidays for this and that— But most are just a time for recreation, Not opportunities for celebration Or contemplation of their origins. Who gives a thought to Martin Luther King? He’s on our minds his day like any other, When seldom do we think who is our brother Or bother reaching out to those in need. We see a baseball game on 4 July— We sing our anthem, watch the color guard; But Revolutionary thoughts are hard To mix with scorecard, chili dog, and beer. The labor on our minds on Labor Day Is but our own that we don’t have to do. We must instead to summer bid adieu With picnics for a special few, or bed. Ah, Christmas is a special time of dread— That deadline of the frantic shopping season Through which we march for half-forgotten reason That escapes us fully when the day has come. Thanksgiving, though, is different from the rest— We gather in our family and friends; We stuff the turkey and each person who attends, And, in the end, how can we not be thankful?