I drive home in the dark.  My window is open and it is cool and misty.  I enjoy the smooth road, the passing of vehicles

I come home with pumpkin pie and cut two slices.  I pour two shots of whiskey. She bids me lay on the bed and watch Leonard Cohen videos while we eat pie, while we drink whiskey. I listen to the music and rest my head on the dog.

She bids me search for the surprise.  It is on the table.  I search with slow eyes and cannot see it.  I move groceries aside as she gives me clues. Something green.  I am slow. ‘Did you find it?”   No.  So slow.   Then there it is.    A four-leafed clover.

for me.

 

I am thankful for the hearts of  good poets and for the hopes of poor ones.

I am thankful for the invitation to beer

I am thankful for my girls

I am thankful to belong.