thanksgiving poetry

and with the humming bird
the old songs
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
doubtless i remember still
let a joy keep you
i burn no incense
when i was broke in london
all quiet along the potomac
friend, whose smile has come to be
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
i heard the wind all day
musing, between the sunset and the dark
when the wind works against us in the dark
the sun is up