Here is a favorite poem i read at Thanksgiving each year
Praise Song

Praise the light of late November,


the thin sunlight that goes deep in the bones.


Praise the crows chattering in the oak trees;


though they are clothed in night, they do not 
despair.

Praise what little there’s left:


the small boats of milkweed pods,

husks, hulls,
 shells, the architecture of trees.

Praise the meadow 
of dried weeds:

yarrow, goldenrod, chicory,
 the remains of summer.

Praise the blue sky 
that hasn’t cracked yet.

Praise the sun slipping down 
behind the beechnuts,

praise the quilt of leaves
 that covers the grass:

Scarlet Oak, Sweet Gum,
 Sugar Maple.

Though darkness gathers, praise our crazy
 fallen world;

it’s all we have, and it’s never enough.

–Barbara Crooker