Thanksgiving

It’s 6 AM
and John’s asleep,
the house is quiet,
not nary a peep.

I’m awake,
or so I think,
is that an oven?
No, that’s the sink.

Bread’s a rising,
turkey’s roasting,
pie’s a baking,
we’re here, left-coasting.

Composing at my desk,
with java in a mug,
I send to friends and family
much love and lots of hugs.

Happy Thanksgiving!

p.s. Rifftides resurrected one of my favorite Thanksgiving memories in honor of Paul Desmond’s birthday. If you haven’t read it yet, click here.

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