Thanksgiving Sonnet

I composed the sonnet below, inspired by a story a boy in kindergarten told me as he drew the above picture.  His story, about someone cooking a Thanksgiving dinner in the forest, seemed unrelated to his picture, although he said all the box-like squares with curving tops and round holes in them were trees.

I stole most of the rhyme scheme from a sonnet by Shakespeare.

After long work hours, at last a day
we go outside in any coat or cloak,
scent the air, then sniff and find our way,
to the source of some delightful smoke.
Someone’s grilling turkey on the break
between two hills.  The sight lights up your face,
and after one more whiff our stomachs ache
to gnaw on drumsticks, stare off into space.
The gravied mashed potatoes ease our grief;
the Brussels sprouts erase our sense of loss;
the oyster stuffing’s flavored with relief —
From such kind folks, could anyone be cross?
We thank the strangers, go on with our living,
thankful for their sharing their Thanksgiving.

– Bruce Ballard