Home For Thanksgiving by Linda Pastan
The gathering family throws shadows around us, it is the late afternoon Of the family.
There is still enough light to see all the way back, but at the windows that light is wasting away.
Soon we will be nothing but silhouettes: the sons' as harsh as the fathers'.
Soon the daughters will take off their aprons as trees take off their leaves for winter.
Let us eat quickly-- let us fill ourselves up. the covers of the album are closing behind us.
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