Maybe our study of New York has gone to my head a bit or maybe I just want everyone to enjoy all the Thanksgiving holiday has to offer.
The New Creation
Not like the golden bird of Thanksgiving fame,
With a place of honor on the dinner table;
Here at the cleanup, at the meal of leftovers stands
A mighty woman with a pot, a shining pot
Able to hold quart upon quart of liquid, and her name
Mother of Soup. With her experienced hands
She gathers; her eyes command the kitchen,
The remains of the feast that was enjoyed by all.
"Give me your bones, your drippings,
Your golden bits of skin so tasty,
The delicious refuse of your Thanksgiving meal.
Send these, the scraps, tossed-aside to me,
I lift my stockpot atop the heated stove!"
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