Yesterday’s Friends
Here’s to our friends of yesterday
Our buddies through the years.
We shared many a laugh by the campfire
We remember them with tears.
That special smile
The fish he caught
Seeing the burros go away at a trot.
Those familiar voices on the radio
Ah, we miss those times so much, you know.
We rember them all
In many ways
The special recipe from Potluck Days.
The familiar stride as he
Came down the road.
That rattletrap car
That had to be towed.
As we read of our friends who have left us now
We remember them with pride.
But oh, we long for those fun-filled days
With our good friends by our side.
Karen (Paintbrush) Martin
The Upset
This time when we gathered, the wolves were at the door. No one lit a candle on the window sill; no one propped their doors open. The wolves were at the door when we gathered for the feast. We heard them sniffing at the keyhole, their claws clicking on the porch, the rumble of the growling and the heartfelt whimpering–the bloodlust mixed with melancholy as they howled in the light of a pointed moon, strained through a dark cloud on a dark night. No one could say the blessing when they called out for our forgiveness. The wolves at the door are coming to Thanksgiving.
(November 24, 2016)
Daniel Thornburg