24 November 2012

A Thanksgiving Poem

When the freezer is full, when we fly for fun
He is my vine, my cup, my wine.

When copper is all that’s left in the pocket change jar
He is my vine, my cup, my wine.

When pizza seems a splurge, when a diamond seems disposable
He is my vine, my cup, my wine.

A toast, a hale, a lifted stein
To the Door, the Star, the Risen Lamb,
My need, my fill, be not germane
To thanks well due my King, I Am.

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