Fourth Thursday Of November

Ever since I can remember,
on the fourth Thursday of November,

long before the crack of dawn,
early on that frosty morn,

flurries and leaves in wispy winds,
as our mother's long day begins.

Placing pumpkins beside the front door,
setting the table for twenty or more.

Into her cozy kitchen she goes,
creating tradition as only she knows.

A muffled clanging in our heads
as we still slumber in our beds.

Then, as if by some magical spell,
spicy, sweet scents begin to dispel.

Aromas in the atmosphere rise,
waking our senses and opening our eyes.

Cinnamon, saffron, nutmeg, and sage.
Stuffing the turkey, she's setting the stage.

On the stovetop simmering away,
delicious side dishes are at play.

Deep dish apple and pumpkin pie
rest on the windowsill nearby.

Family and friends begin to arrive.
Some a bit tired from the drive.

Children running in and out.
Happy laughter all about.

The smell of turkey sweeping the air.
Thanksgiving time is finally here!

Out of the oven all golden brown,
her turkey is our table's crown!

Dad, with his big wide grin,
slices the turkey nice and thin.

Smiling with her dimples so sweet,
she knows Thanksgiving is complete.

Now we give thanks to the Lord above
for this bountiful blessing made with love.

Many Novembers have come and gone.
We try to carry her memories on,

but the one thing we can never replace
is mom's sweet smiling dimpled face.