(A Poem composed for the occasion of Thanksgiving Day, 2014)
I walked the path from glen to arch
Of hoary oak, in darkness deep.
And on each side my eyes did watch,
For wanton imp or hidden creek.
Not seeing danger, yet I trod
Far on a mile, thence one mile more.
Til from the glome arose a sod
Of mosses heaped by foot a score.
What should a’rest upon tha’ tuft
So deeply hid, midst forest grove?
Well wont you know, a cooked turkey stuft,
Wit berries, chestnuts, and a wee dove!
So now I return from wood and glen
Once again to my friends, in the land of the living,
To share with you all this bounteous hen,
And to wish to you all, a Happy Thanksgiving!