"The very first one was a killer."
Saturday, November 28, 2009 at 12:20PM 
On Wednesday night, Syd and I made some rolls, and then we sat around telling jokes:
The boys and I split up for our Thanksgiving celebrations, which was bittersweet, but I spent all day at my grandma's house, yukking it up with my wonderful, hilarious family, eating, talking, drinking lots of red wine and, then, lots of coffee.
I have so much to be thankful for.
This poem is always relevant, but it's worth a re-post at this time of year especially:
Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow for the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water looking out
in different directions.
back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
looking up from tables we are saying thank you
in a culture up to its chin in shame
living in the stench it has chosen we are saying thank you
over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the back door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks that use us we are saying thank you
with the crooks in office with the rich and fashionable
unchanged we go on saying thank you thank you
with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us like the earth
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is
--W.S. Merwin














Reader Comments (2)
i needed this poem tonight. thank you.
SWOOOOOSH!
(that is the sound of the 0/8 joke going over my head until you explained it.)