The rolling hills
of Kentucky
wear crowns of
naked trees
empty branches like
bristly hair static
reach to the sky
and I
peer through them
see what is beyond.
She sits
at table
stares out window
chin in hand
dirty dishes
stacked by the sink
and thinks
about the day
the pie
is gone.
Hay bales rest
on flattened sides
and the sun
illuminates the white
bark of a wall
of sycamores
I am blinded
by beauty.
It was her hands
reached in
that dead carcass
and pulled out
guts and organs
trimmed fat
rubbed and seasoned
kneaded and rolled
her lips tasted
her arms…
held.
Christmas songs
on the stereo
as we pass
miles
and miles
of stark hillside
bleak, naked
landscape.
The children are
all gone
the house
empty
no more
laughter
just this
wiping and
cleaning
of leftover feast.
Wild turkeys roost
on low-branched
trees
and the sky
grows
increasingly cloudy
the empty trees
speak quiet
to my heart
and then…
color--
bright circles of
joy
surprise
amidst the gangly
stillness,
a bundle of balloons
tangled in tree top.
Do not
tell her
thank you,
this woman
who gives
this is how she says
I love you
as she dips
hands in soapy water
she smiles
and hums a little.
This family
that I married--
surprises me with joy.
Would you like to share a Thanksgiving reflection or tradition? Head over to High Calling Blogs and grab our special button, then drop a line in the comment box so we can all share. Blessed to share in your traditions, friends!
of Kentucky
wear crowns of
naked trees
empty branches like
bristly hair static
reach to the sky
and I
peer through them
see what is beyond.
She sits
at table
stares out window
chin in hand
dirty dishes
stacked by the sink
and thinks
about the day
the pie
is gone.
Hay bales rest
on flattened sides
and the sun
illuminates the white
bark of a wall
of sycamores
I am blinded
by beauty.
It was her hands
reached in
that dead carcass
and pulled out
guts and organs
trimmed fat
rubbed and seasoned
kneaded and rolled
her lips tasted
her arms…
held.
Christmas songs
on the stereo
as we pass
miles
and miles
of stark hillside
bleak, naked
landscape.
The children are
all gone
the house
empty
no more
laughter
just this
wiping and
cleaning
of leftover feast.
Wild turkeys roost
on low-branched
trees
and the sky
grows
increasingly cloudy
the empty trees
speak quiet
to my heart
and then…
color--
bright circles of
joy
surprise
amidst the gangly
stillness,
a bundle of balloons
tangled in tree top.
Do not
tell her
thank you,
this woman
who gives
this is how she says
I love you
as she dips
hands in soapy water
she smiles
and hums a little.
This family
that I married--
surprises me with joy.
Would you like to share a Thanksgiving reflection or tradition? Head over to High Calling Blogs and grab our special button, then drop a line in the comment box so we can all share. Blessed to share in your traditions, friends!
14 comments:
Hope you have a blessed and happy thanksgiving with your family:)
Jennifer
So many great images here. I felt the poignancy of your experience. I loved this...
"and thinks
about the day
the pie
is gone."
I suppose I am always thinking that, in one way or another...
Happy Thanksgiving dear Laura.
This is so touching. It is a lovely tribute. I love all the images. You always bless.
What was said above.
Giving thanks for you.
Giving thanks that you have this.
peace be with you this holiday
Beautiful.
Have a blessed day!
Just lovely, thank you! :-)
Reading this, I hold in my mind's eye the image of my mother.
Thank you for the pictures you create, the memory recalled.
What beautiful words! Happy Thanksgiving to you!
I pray you have a wonderfully blessed Thanksgiving!
i cried reading this.
"the pie
is gone"
this line shouted "i love you"
blessings to you laura.
Beautiful, just like you. Lovingly, Yolanda
Love the picture that these words create.
Hope you are having a great thanksgiving!
Blessed by this tonight, as the dishes have finally been put away here on this farm.
God bless you, my friend. I count you among my blessings ...
oh, i see it's snowing at your blog...very pretty!
love the poem
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