DAY FOR GIVING PRAISE

DAY FOR GIVING PRAISE

In the last fleet days of autumn,
Before the winter snows.
Before the shopping frenzy,
And the Christmas wind it blows.
Comes a day untarnished by ribbons,
And brightly colored bows.
Where families at their most forgiving,
Their cups of plenty raise,
And consecrate a mighty feast
To a day for giving praise.

We praise our God for health and zest,
Whatever bounty we possess,
Open our arms to the beauty of the earth,
The riches of the spirit, and their everlasting worth.
And put aside our differences, like the pilgrims that we are
And the pilgrims we shall ever be,
Here on earth for awhile we are,
Before we claim eternity.

We carve the turkey, cook the dressing,
Pause awhile to count our blessings.
Decorate the table with the flourish
Of casseroles and candied yams.
Our hopes and dreams are nourished,
Our bellies filled with country ham.

Mashed potatoes, stewed tomatoes,
Grandma's rolls and Grandpa's naps.
Our birth or our adopted families,
And their old familiar homilies,
Babies sleep in mothers' laps,
And for just one day our cares melt away,
Our differences fall off the map.
And all is insignificant except the day's great charm,
Forgiveness is extended and grudges are disarmed.

We remember the hungry and comfort the poor,
And minister to those in need,
Those immigrants that to our shore have come,
Their cries we hear and at last we heed.
And for one day we all live in peace,
The black, the white, the straight, the gay,
We see beyond the darkness, and fear and labels cease.

Be it ever so humble, or ever so grand,
Like settlers of old we share the land,
We travel far and travel wide,
To have our familes at our side.
Even as the storm clouds grow,
Even as the tears rain down,
There is always kindness to bestow,
A wealth of blessings to be found.

Each year we find this one time refuge,
In the fleet of autumn, no pretense and no subterfuge.
Sometime between the bells of Christmas,
And the ghostly Halloween tricks and pranks,
Comes a quiet holy stillness, no greasepaint and no rouge,
Just a cherished change where our hearts loom huge,
And beat with the thrill of giving thanks.

Thanks for the sunshine, thanks for the rain,
The trials that strengthen, and even the pain.
We gather hands around the table,
And each as he is able,
Thank the Great Spirit in a myriad of ways,
Celebrate the harvest in the autumn of the year,
Watch our fears just disappear,
On this our day for giving praise.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED