So here we are.
Today’s Horribly Local Poor Poetry Month (HoLoPoPoMo) entry celebrates the spirit of this day:
thanksgiving grace
We give thanks for everything
Birds we eat and birds that sing
But today, however, I
Am most grateful for the pie
I should prob’ly qualify
The remark about the pie
If it’s fresh and a la mode
Then I stand by my thankful ode
And as long as I’m correcting
Things to which I’m genuflecting
I appreciate a lot...
But everything I’ve got?
Like those who wreck and rot?
...well, maybe not
The end.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Yes indeed. Welcome to me.
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