The house stands quiet this Thanksgiving.
Barren trees out picture window silently
Wave their limbs in the cold November breeze.
Other years the house abounds with joy.
Delicious aromas, plates and glasses clinking,
Laughter and conversation seasoning the bountiful meal.
Yet today only the clock on the wall breaks the strange silence.
Its quarter hour rings, often unnoticed, now reminders that
Children and loved ones are elsewhere this year.
Sadness starts to enter the stillness, but is quickly halted.
For solitude and needed pause begin their secret work,
Drawing forth wonders from the soul fitting to the season.
Blessings innumerable first trickle, then rush, to mind.
Offerings of gratitude, unheard in the silence,
Resound from thankful heart to heaven’s throne.
Our home does stand quiet this Thanksgiving.
Yet the empty rooms are filled with fresh
Hallelujahs, in ways unseen and silent.
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