The moon is shining brightly, as are the stars, and it is cold outside. We all gather tomorrow to feast.
It is such a blessing, a day to give Thanks. What could be more wonderfully blessed than that.
Gratitude. Thanks!
Here is another poem by Mary Oliver
NOT THIS, NOT THAT
Nor anything,
not the eastern wind whose other name
is rain,
nor the burning heat of the dunes
at the crown of summer,
nor the ticks, that new, ferocious populace,
not the president who loves blood,
nor the governmental agencies that love money,
will alter
my love for you, my friends and my beloved,
or for you, oh ghosts of Emerson and Whitman,
or for you, oh blue sky of a summer morning,
that makes me roll in a barrel of gratitude
down hills,
or for you, oldest of friends: hope;
or for you, newest of friends: faith;
or for you, silliest and dearest of surprises, my
own life.
- Mary Oliver
