The Turkey is Basting

The Turkey is Basting

The rays of the setting sun
On a late November afternoon
Turns rusty leaves to gold
Horses in the fields
Graze the last of clover
Among what once was
The brilliance of aster
Goldenrod and Ironweed
Hay bales rest in the dry
In the old barn shed
Faraway over the treetops
Comes the sound
Of Sandhills in formation
In the oven
The turkey is basting
It’s a time
To remember
How blessed we are
Thankful for life
Family and friends
May our nation
Find a way to heal

Happy Thanksgiving!
Roy L. “Bonefish” Nave