On Thanksgiving Day
I stood on a sea of glass,
Feet suspended above a carpet of earth.
Every newly-frosted spike and blade
Stood ready at attention,
Bristling in the shrill morning breeze,
Eager to prove their valor.
I bent to examine a specimen of the tide,
Newly-baptized by these newborn waves,
And found it was a leaf-
Brown and withered from the cold,
Yet laced with crystals, shimmering in the morning sun.
Though cast-off from its former perch,
Among the branches of some tree,
It now sat clothed in robes that rivaled the fairest jewels of the fairest lady.
Thus nature clothes the small,
I puzzled,
While men adorn the great.
The frozen sea at my feet began to stir,
Hastened to speed onward by the morning sun.
Each stalk began to crackle-
And the music of water began to flow free-
Until each blade burst forth from its jeweled case and stood brave and tall,
Shoots of green in the newly-christened earth.