That which we call a rose
The poetry of hands, 23

The poetry of hands, 22


My Unca Len's creative hands / Baltimore, MD / date unknown

When I travel back to Thanksgivings long past
I recall
Over the Delaware Memorial Bridge and
through the highway toll booths to
Grandmother's house we go
Drinking Unca Len's home made root beer 
with its sharp, distinctive taste
at the long kid's table that ended
by the TV where the boys kept
the football game on, but the sound down
Stewed tomatoes on mashed potatoes
and fresh, hot Rum rolls with white icing that
were saved until the rest of my plate was
empty and each bite could be savored
The annual day after cousins
touch football game where the final
score never mattered
Aunts and uncles and cousins
and brothers and parents and grandparents --
a bonanza of kinship



A wonderful Thanksgiving tribute and remembrance of our treasured Thanksgiving celebrations at Aunt B's and Unc Len's!

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