TURKEY DAY

(sigh)


whip up the spuds,
stuff the bird.
not a word of thanks
was ever heard.
bake mounds of stuffing,
cook the peas,
toss the greens,
sweeten teas.
"It’s yummy,"
I kept waiting to hear
but no,
those words missed
both my ears.
glaze the yams,
frost the cake,
boil the ham,
and relish make.
bake the squash,
pickle beets
devil eggs,
(my poor feet.)
roll out the crusts,
and bake the pies.
"I’ll help," I heard
to my surprise.
you thought, of course,
that I would say
I really hate this turkey day.
but no.
it’s just that we’re ungrateful
for all those piled-high, heaping platesful.
we’ve lost the meaning of this day.
food’s not it…
we’ve lost our way.

(sigh)