Thanksgiving

Soon we will be deep in turkey and giblet gravy, and it's always a good thing to pause in the midst of life's hectic pace to take stock of one's blessings.  I have many. Too many, in fact, to count. 

But as far as this blog is concerned, I will give thanks for the energies and pace required to produce over 200 posts this year--even through the many changes (2 graduations, wedding, etc.) that completely reorganized our lives.  I'm very grateful to a have a wife who is far more resilient, gifted, intelligent and energetic than I am . . . and who out-produces and out-works me every day.

I've been searching the archives (to the Bat Library, Robin!) to see if I could find a poem that might be decent enough to voice some of these thoughts. 

So, here's one . . . written in late October.  A love poem?  Not sure.  But it has an overtone of thanksgiving to it.  Kind of bookish, but it might be romantic if I offered it with flowers.  Or maybe cranberry sauce.

Marginalia

In the narrow columns of these pages
I have discovered you between the lines
In loops of pencil, strokes of pen, sometimes
Hidden in the paragraphs of ages.

And every jot or date of days
Is more than syllables or sighs:
But star-crossed t's and dotted i's
Where volumes speak through paraphrase.