As a non-hibernating human being there is a time when in my existence I lay dormant in a shadowy malaise, as it were, a condition that transcends my true nature causing me to be a grumpy misfit among sun worshipers and barbecue bimbos as I have never seen the value in frying ones epidermis to a pork rind in the infra red blast furnace of ole Sol’s rays.
My arousal arrives with each day’s sunset beginning a little earlier and with the tree leaves shuddering to fall from their perch in a frosty apoplectic form anticipating re-birthing in the coming spring with a rather unwelcome death that coats the yard by their cast off carcasses leaving spindly shadows on a rather well manicured carpet of green.
However, autumn and winter herald scrumptious tables of Thanksgiving dining with friends and family, bright multicolor lights reflected in the eyes of joyful children, and glittering Christmas trees surrounded by gayly wrapped presents which are those things that energize me from somnolence into a jolly jig dancing Fantasia footed fool, ain’t it grand.
©2012, Donald Harbour
Donald Harbour Poetry 
Fam-damily. Can’t shot ’em, may as well celebrate with them. 🙂
At least the ones that are close enough. It’s not like fifty years ago when three generations lived in the same small house. We’ll enjoy our celebrations, each contributing something – Looking forward to Thursday, as well as Sunday (when we’ll have four generations together).
Returning hugs and kisses and wishes for health, happiness and all things worth doing a jig for.
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Wow. So, that’s how it’s to be done, eh? Those are three quite wonderful sentences, Donald.
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Ain’t it grand indeed — full of sumptuous and vivid imagery in full color for the eye and mind to see. You remind me of why I love this season.
A happy and hearty Thanksgiving wish to you and yours.
-Nicole
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Happy Thanksgiving, Donald. What a lovely poem!
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