The 384th Thanksgiving — a poem

Happy birthday, dear Thanksgiving.
My, you look good for your age.
Has it been 384 years already?
Well, time has made you more sage.
For it is wise to take a break
from the hustle of everyday life
and to reflect and be thankful
while sharpening a carving knife.
Much has changed since that first meal
but the sentiment does stay the same.
We are glad for what we have
and we’re glad the Pilgrims came.
The first meal lasted three whole days
and gave people some much needed fat,
to keep them warm through a wild winter
and to keep them happy as a cat.
Today, the meal is much, much shorter
but the leftovers can last us for days.
For now we have refrigeration,
to help us continue to graze.
Some would say we’re no longer as thankful,
that convenience has spoiled us good,
when we should be more grateful than ever,
having more than we probably should.
There were no ovens at the first feast
no central heat and no post-meal TV.
People worked really hard and died really young
and many loved ones were buried at sea.
They were thankful to be living, and so are we
although we probably don’t consider it much.
It takes a day like Thanksgiving for us to pause,
to reconnect and get back in touch.
Every day should be Thanksgiving,
or so we say at the table each year,
but we soon move on, back to the stress,
and forget the holiday cheer.
In fact we can’t wait to get in the mob
and shop on the very next day.
Come Christmas we’ll gather together again
and say what we always say.
So, let’s be thankful for another great year,
that we’re rich in our hearts, never poor,
and hope that by the next Thanksgiving,
we’ll have been thankful a whole lot more.