When the table is set, and the candles are lit,
Pause for a moment—just sit.
Look past the feast, past the polished glow,
To the blessings that quietly grow.

Not in what’s missing or dreams unmet,
But in the hearts who gather yet.
The laughter that rises like bread in the air,
The love woven soft, like an old chair’s wear.

We have our sorrows, our unspoken aches,
Yet still, joy finds the smallest breaks.
For what we hold, though we might not see,
Is admired by others quietly.

A hand to hold, a voice that hums,
A home where the spirit freely comes.
So let us be thankful, not for perfection’s face,
But for each imperfect, beautiful grace.

And as we savor, let us impart,
Thanks for the fullness of hearth and heart.

Happy Thanksgiving. 🥂