We sat sated in the den
ready for pie; but not quite,
needing to sit a bit, to
settle our
bloated tummies, because
it was after the turkey,
after the rolls, after the
potatoes,
the gravy, cranberries,
the vegetables, the
stuffing,
the bounty of the feast we
call
Thanksgiving, when seconds
become thirds, and the eye
is
bigger than the stomach,
and eating is expected,
Because cooking is love
and love is eating all of it
and we sit quietly, letting
the tryptophan do its thing
slowly easing the day
and making us ready
for dessert, and
seconds that follow
-----
edited November 27, 2014
After the Turkey – v2
Thanksgiving Day
November 23, 2006 18:27
After the Turkey
All of my
poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005,
2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014. All rights reserved.
Contact me at Ray Foss
for usage. See all 33,930+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
No comments:
Post a Comment