An Anonymous Thanksgiving

 By Gener

The boy picked up a pebble and threw it far into the water
And waited for the ripple to appear,
In his young mind the circles seem like a fairway's dizzying ride
On a fourth of July or Canada Day.

Then he stood up and sailed through the wood's thorny trees

Stopped by and picked a twig
Examined it and made a walking cane
Or is it a stick to ward off the snakes

In his jolly he forgot about the errand to make
While his mother waited at the shack they shared
Pounding the flour and kneading for a bread
The supp'er they'd partake
As in the Lord's last ever day.

"My father'd be gone," the boy uttered beneath breath
And so soon in my youth he'd never be understood,
For the things I heard 'bout him
He was a fine lad gone mad.

In all his twelve years the boy leaped for faith
For a father he'd hardly known,
Inside a cell the old man lived
And will die alone in self.

As the Mother saw the son she smiled and wiped a tear
Her bread was fast rising and the corn soup a'boil,
Her turkey smells a jewel, her potatoes just as well,
The son and father would have laughed
As they all shared Thanksgiving before.