A rare glimpse of some ANDSHELAUGHS poetry inspired by the many hundreds of miles I have driven this Thanksgiving weekend. I  not only have been entertained by wonderful friends, but also by the beauty of the changing leaves; crimson, ruby, rust and gold.

The earth, despite cuts of concrete and swaths of asphalt, sings out its beauty for one last show of power before the snow falls and sends us into a darker season lit by the steady, clear winter constellations.

The beauty that I have just a few steps from my front door is what I am thankful for every day. Blossoms in the spring, cool shade in the summer, and beautiful colour in the autumn. There is indeed much to be thankful for.

VIEW FROM THE POINT

Even this rock has life

Grass pricks up in the hollow scar

like the waking fuzz on a toddler’s head.

Reservoir of battered water,

tossed by speed or storm,

from the deep lake.

There was a moment when seed took root,
 
what was barren became fruitful;
 
Beauty from despair.

 

The whispered gurgle

of water kissing granite –

Is this our human hope-

That in the echo of sorrow

despair will wear like rock,

and in the smallest crevice

meaning will take root?

A cradle from the deepest cut.

by; ANDSHELAUGHS

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