See more Poetry Friday at Carol’s Corner.
Yesterday, Thanksgiving Day, Betsy Hubbard of Two Writing Teachers asked us to take a moment to be still and write a poem. I actually wrote this poem by speaking into my phone on the way to Walgreens to get some decongestant. (My sinuses do not like the cold.) While I was shopping, a young woman, girl actually, asked if she could help me find something. Then she commented that I smelled. “It’s not a bad smell.” I had carried the roasting turkey smell with me. Anything can make its way into a poem.
Thanksgiving Day
Fire orange blazes from the tops of the trees
announcing the season’s change,
so I drive to my parents’ home by the lake
through the woods, tall pines, draping oaks.Mama puts the turkey on early in the morning
while I still lounge in pajamas.
That Thanksgiving smell fills the air,
a scent I cannot emulate,
a scent I hold herein my clothes, in my hair, my heart.
My mind does not wander to times before;
I do not miss the sound of children.
No, I am just here with this now,This turkey roasting, the warmth of the fire,
this place where I am always loved.–Margaret Simon
Reflections on the Teche 
Beautiful. It says so much !!!
There is something about holidays and the way they remind us that we are unconditionally loved by family. Lovely poem. So glad you wrote it.
“…I am just here with this now,”
My new mantra!
And I love that you celebrate the scent of food in your clothes and hair. Next time we cook curry, I’ll celebrate, rather than curse!!
Beautiful, Margaret. What a story, that you wrote on your way to Walgreen’s! That in itself could be the next one! I remember well waking to that smell-we always put the turkey in at midnight, slow roasting all night! Memories make good poetry!
I love the way you captured the smells, Margaret – so true to the day, to be enveloped in the scent of Thanksgiving.
Scents and smells evoke the most powerful and lasting memories.
“No, I am just here with this now,” – if only we could be this way, each and every day. 🙂
I hope you are feeling better. Your poem is warm and comforting, like a cup of hot cocoa. Thank you!
Lovely! You took me there with you. I love these lines:
“My mind does not wander to times before;
I do not miss the sound of children.
No, I am just here with this now,”
Thanks, Violet, for stopping by and for your kind comment.
We had a quiet Thanksgiving, too. And although I missed the presence of my kids, I didn’t miss the hubbub. Thanks for sharing your lovely poem!
Knowing my children were doing fun things, too, made it easier. I don’t ever want to be the kind of parent who demands appearances. We will all be together for Christmas!
Oh my, this is lovely, Margaret! Scents are so evocative, aren’t they? Like triggers into a poetic world of their own.