thanks giving

I give thanks for my young boys’ muscled limbs
and taut bellies, their shameless animal ferocious grace,
gentle eyes promising gentle men, tender, telling more than war.

I give thanks for my daughter’s shy embrace
for the careful way she still arrives, touching hesitant edges
as we sleep, backs of hands, knees, feet, child-woman in mother-woman’s reach.

I give thanks for my lover’s slow speed
the open space he keeps, an ever present doorway
welcoming this tired mother, this freeway, this bending, stubborn glee.


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