A feast on cloth-decked table spread–
candles to light–
a father at the head. . .

so many
special kinds of food
and fancy plates
on which to eat. . .

some grown-ups’ knees
to hide between,
under the table
a fun, dimmed space
to spy from
and retreat,
where no one sees. . .

a few class projects
helped me participate
to make the holiday replete
with joyful offerings,
even from young me–
a TV guide folded up,
golden sprayed,
inserted with a colored paper head
and fanning tail
to form a paper turkey. .. .
and an uncooked cookie
called a bourbon ball
rolled up by me
and toted home to give to mom and daddy. . .

Mom would put out
the thankful, wicker plenty horn,
with hard, dried, bumpy gourds and multi-colored corn
another new and pretty sight
to celebrate and please our eyes.

and let’s not forget
brown, autumn leaves to stomp and crunch,
and pumpkin pies on which to munch,
to warm us some,
when we were come together
in season made for
evenings dark and colder weather. . .

and still, a bright, warm ember lingers, deep inside,
glowing now with these and other scenes,
though quite a lot has changed–
the memories remain
and make live within my brain
the family and place from which I came.

This entry was posted in Poetry, POETRY PICNIC GOOSEBERRY GARDEN. Bookmark the permalink.


  1. Kay Salady says:

    Oh, this also brought back some wonderful memories for me as well. Thank you! Well written piece.

  2. Morning says:

    This is intelligent one,

    well done.


  3. sweet and delicious memeories,

    very beautifully done.


  4. caridwen says:

    I love poems that evoke memories of childhood holidays! Thank you.

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