THANKS FOR FAMILIAR THINGS
Years ago I found this simple little poem I’ve occasionally used on Thanksgiving. I don’t know who wrote it or where I got it. I offer thanks for just familiar things The rudddy glory of the sunset sky The shine of firelight as the dusk draws nigh. The cheery song my little kettle sings. The woodland music of my giant pine The last sweet tokens that my garden yields, The mellow tints upon the autumn fields. The far-off misty mountains purple line. The sense of rest that home so surely brings, The books that wait my pleasure, true and fine Old friendship that I joy to feel are mine. I offer thanks for just familiar things.
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