Thanksgiving Eve

by Buff Whitman-Bradley / November 29th, 2020

•Neatened up the Little Free Library.
Filled the neighborhood bowl
With water for passing dogs.
Made a cup of lemon ginger tea to sip
As I looked out the big front window
At the sunlight across the way
Being nudged ever higher into the treetops
By the shadow inexorably growing into night
As the air sharpened its frigid knives.
Thought about those with no home, no bed,
No place to escape the cold.
Wondered in what furious and infested alley
Justice will sleep tonight.

Buff Whitman-Bradley’s poetry has been widely published in print and online journals. He has a new book coming out from Finishing Line Press, A Friendly Little Tavern Somewhere Near the Pleiades. Read other articles by Buff.

This article was posted on Sunday, November 29th, 2020 at 8:02am and is filed under Poetry.