Archive
11/25/10 - (1)
Thanksgiving Days
The Broadwalk, bustling with bikers, rollerbladers, strollers, Paralleling Hollywood Beach's shoreline, For at least three forties-and-fifties-era-motel miles, With its pastel-green and flamingo-pink stucco structures, Which rent by the day, week, month, eternity, Its Ramadas and Marriotts slowly eroding, rotting, like Venice, From the second-by-second onslaught of ceaseless salt breezes, Its bikini, T-shirt, and souvenir shops, stands, kiosks, Its moveable-feast Italian, Greek, Thai, and Turkish eateries, Provides us with a perfect space in which to power-walk, Keep fit, doing our daily step-by-step, side-by-side exercise.
Intermittently holding hands and letting go, To concentrate on lengthening out our extended strides, We contemplate our time together, away from our other lives, And, reflecting on tomorrow's Thanksgiving celebration, Express gratitude for having finally inherited our freedom After the complexities and stresses of rearing families, Striving to make reputations within our chosen occupations. Now, it's twilight. We cool down, head to the ocean, Maneuver through the weed-and-kelp-strewn sand, Listening to the whispering waves inching up the beach, Trying to reach us, make us take notice,
Persuade us to follow them back out, learn their language, So we might communicate our love to them, Impart the secret of our cherished peace of soul. Respectfully, we decline, realizing it's growing late And that there's much to get done before sleep comes; We have to prepare the sweet-potato-and-apple casserole, The onion-, celery-, and raisin-studded stuffing, And the sixteen-pound turkey that must bake twelve hours. We drive home, grateful, knowing that this day, Rather than concluding, has only begun to share its bounty, And we give thanks for our tender-touching togetherness.
11/25/10 - (1)
|
|||
|
|||
