Geese In Grass 14x11

Slighted goose, dismissed gander
Left for naught, forgotten fowl
What ‘ere you wrought on this thy brow
Hath plagued thee now Hath brought thee slander

Little we considered thee
In downy coat so hard to pluck
Nary a thought it’d come to this
Thy rich dark breast Thy taste of duck

Now that which craven palette yearns
For on this day of memories murky
Is not the swamp and eel and frog
It is instead our festive turkey

We pulled off a thanksgiving feat of extraordinary proportions. Four families fully feted, rubbing their turkey-stuffed bellies chortling and cackling like a yard full of happy hens...all them strangers to each other just hours before! No, I didn't even ply them with rum soaked eggnog, though I did consider it. We spent a happy afternoon with new friends around the big ol' table and spilled out onto the porch as the afternoon wore on and pumpkin pies were devoured. What could have been an uncomfortable and awkward gathering of disproportionate personalities turned out to be a most memorable thanksgiving. All this punctuated by an earlier rendezvous where, once again, I proved my sandlot prowess by being on the winning side of an impromptu football game...(I'm feeling it today) A nice prayer of thanksgiving was offered and I think we all sensed a genuine gratitude to our Father in heaven for His constant care for us, His careless kids.

The poem was inspired by the painting of the geese above (Rickreall, Oregon) and our conversation around the table yesterday. I had proposed to Carmen that we add quail and fried rabbit to the pleasant bounty. With a foreign gesture and a sigh she dismissed my salubrious suggestion for wild game . I later proffered the idea to my guests. It met with the same result. I tried to convince them of the succulent and savory attributes of wild game...to no avail. I for one would welcome the return of Christmas goose, tasty turkey notwithstanding.