Three Haikus for Thanksgiving
Nothing too weighty here. A little literary jello, a taste of the chiffon pie of poetry. Enjoy! Then go take a nap.
People in the know
Say you are dumb and ugly.
But, oh, those drumsticks.
I tried to flesh out (so to speak) the personality of turkeys for a story I was working on for children. My friends who’d raised turkeys said there is little to love about them. They are mean, noisy, messy, and dumb enough to drown themselves by opening their mouths in rainstorms. Cartoon and animated turkeys always look so fun and charming. It’s hard to have one’s expectations dashed. There’s a long riff out there waiting to be written about finding the fullness of one’s creation only in what you can offer after you’re dead.
Silent cousins chew.
We try to tease out small talk,
Forcing family bonds.
We spend most of our family holidays with my sister and her family (which includes 3 grown children). My kids (also now grown) pointed out over the years that their cousins rarely say anything at the dinner table, regardless of the festivities. My sister’s family is comfortable eating in silence. It could be a post-funeral meal or a full-out Christmas spread, it’s the same volume. Nil. Starting a conversation, not to mention sustaining it, is a task. My kids are grateful when their cousins invite friends to join our fetes. Someone to talk to!
Sage and tart apples,
Sausage, butter and torn bread.
Daddy’s with us still.
My dad died in 1973. He loved to cook. Every Sunday, while my sisters and I attended church, he’d put some kind of roast in the oven. Coming home to those smells and to feast on his home cooking every week provided a joy I took for granted as a child. I miss him. Every Thanksgiving I like to make his signature dressing – a moist, tasty, zingy pork sausage and apple stuffing.