A Happy Thanksgiving


… because the cuttlekids are home.

So, since I can’t cook a meal for you, a special side-dish here, serving as another reminder that what I do is not poetry, and that proper poetry is (or can be) delicious.

Comments

  1. Die Anyway says

    I heard the plums in the refrigerator thing on NPR this morning. It’s ok but I much prefer your verses whether you consider them poetry or not.

    We had a good dinner with our daughters and a variety of in-laws and extended family. Now my stomach hurts, but in a good way.

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