Cold Morning: an acrostic from this morning’s writing practice.
Crystals cover slanted rooftops. A cold night
Offers a glittery morning.
Leaves, already brilliant with fall, still sleep, muted and
Dreamy with frost. The whole world
Magically rests beyond windows fogged with breath.
On this Sunday before Thanksgiving Day, I
Remember the holiday meals of my childhood at
Nana’s house on the home place.
I relive cozy afternoons with her,
Near to me, she still feels all these years later.
Gentle and generous even in death.
Happy Sunday, on this cold morning. I’m counting down to Thanksgiving. Time to make that grocery list and check it twice! Four sleeps, y’all…
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
Bing Crosby, I’ve Got Plenty to be Thankful For