Cleaning Up After
Thanksgiving’s Feast Memories
Floating in the Air
Brushing Crumbs Off the
Counter Into My Cupped Hand
Just Like My Mom Did
My Hand a Shadow
Of Hers, Lit By Her Joy in
Feeding Her Loved Ones
Radiating Across
The Years, Undimmed, to Warm Me
Despite Time’s Cool Gaze
Category: Joy
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Bruised by Our Knowledge
We Make Our Lives Sublime With
The Gift of Belief -
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