Thanksgiving and I am thanking, and giving, giving thanks for a bloody long weekend and a break from it all, a chance to breathe sweet, cool, autumn air and crisp, dying leaves that fall, fall.  It’s fall, after all, and I am thinking of thanking, thanking my family, my good parents for giving, giving, loving so deep and solid.  Thank you.  Thanksgiving, and oh – crikey – the gravy.  Lordy, what a feast.  And the loon will be calling on the lake – a call that asks – why, and when, and demands to be heard now, hear me now, yes, and a sky that only quits when the stars have gone to bed and there isn’t anything left to thank today.  Thanksgiving, giving thanks for this body, this life, this breath, belly rising and belly falling, and spine bending backwards in supplication for it all, and yes – there is anger to breathe through and pain, there is sadness – so much sadness.  We ride it, like the breathe, and we break it up with laughter, sometimes improper, but shit – damn – we do what we have to – we live, we fight, we struggle to accept our faults and to love our weaknesses, we know we will only truly love others when we succeed in this plight and still the days tick by, paycheque by paycheque, and the lady in the cafeteria says I get a free coffee tomorrow, and there is some hope for tomorrow and the next day, and in two days time a sweet long road trip with the kids and I singing along and daydreaming and moving away, beyond, toward, thankful.  Giving.  Giving thanks.

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