That lone Thursday, meal is served; inhaled in such short space.
No time for long soliloquies – vultures of a food race.
Thanksgiving Day, in origin, came after much great harm.
The year before, a winter blast, now safe and free and warm.
Purpose set for this feast day was gratefulness of heart.
When sitting down and dining here, find now this place to start.
Ponder long the year behind; its hardness or its ease.
Either way, you are alive, living as you please.
After the meal has come and gone, with table’s mess, recall:
Thanksgiving is not what we eat; it’s that we have life at all.