Blessed Thanksgiving!

Smoke hangs like haze over harvested fields,
The gold of stubble, the brown of turned
earth,
And you walk under the red light of fall,
The scent of fallen apples, the dust
of threshed grain, the sharp, gentle chill
of fall. Here as we move into the shadows
of autumn, The night that brings the morning
of spring,

Come to us, Lord of Harvest,
Teach us to be thankful for the gifts you
bring us. . . .

photo taken from Hogback Mountain, Vermont