We—who easily could be gone—know each
day’s for giving thanks. We—who challenged fate,
nearly lost, found reprieve—know to beseech
guidance with each rising sun, contemplate
deep whispering voice within our psyches,
each conscious cell uniting to respond.
We recognize this blessed month, this time we
celebrate your birth and my rebirth, fond
of these days, yet aware of their rare place
within our continuum of grace. Tell
me what you know now of how angels trace
our every move, sometimes warn us of hell
on earth, may even stop us in our tracks;
let us stray to learn, then help us get back.
Roger Armbrust
November 27,
2013
