A Thanksgiving Poem

A note of thanks and Larry Robinson’s Poem for the Day

The Laguna de Santa Rosa at sunrise this morning on Thanksgiving Day 2023. (Photo by Larry Robinson)

I’m thankful for so many things this morning. I’m thankful that I don’t live in a war zone. I’m thankful for the amazing place that we do live—its beauty is a gift every day. I’m thankful for my home and my family and friends. And I’m thankful for our many readers and subscribers who make this newspaper—and the job I love—possible.

I’m also thankful for the ongoing work of Larry Robinson, whose Poems for the Day and morning photos of the Laguna start every day on the right note.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Grace

Though the world is dented and dinged

and scuffed and scorned,

we trim the beans and peel the potatoes,

and the kitchen is warm and full

of laughter. We hum as we work

and break into scraps of song.

All day our hands are joyful

as they prepare the meal to come.

There are wars and battles even now,

not all of them fought with guns,

some waged intimately in our thoughts,

our scraped up hearts. And still,

this scent of apple pie, sweetening

as it bakes, this inner insistence

that love is not only possible,

it is every bit as real as our fear.

Whether the host has brought

out his best wine and his best crystal glasses

or water in chipped clay cups,

there is every reason

to be generous, to serve not only

our family, our friends, ourselves,

but also those we don’t yet know how to love

and those parts of ourselves we

have tried to keep separate.

Tonight the host has hidden bait

in the dinner—we all are caught.

Scent of sage, scent of mushrooms

and cream. The bite of cranberry.

Never mind the potatoes cooked too long.

Blessings seep into all the imperfect places,

even if you can’t name the blessings—

consider them secret ingredients.

The point is not to understand the feast,

but to eat, to eat it together.

—Rosemerry Trommer

You can find Larry’s work here.