Thanksgiving Hills

Lake silence,
Pestered by empty chatter,
Turns to echo violence
On neighbor's turkey platter.

For a few precious minutes,
I'd hoped the quiet might sustain.
Air holding its' breath.
The branches in refrain.

First, they start their squawking.
“Wop Wah" and "chick a-beek”.
Then in slurry seconds,
The slappy, sloppy mentions

Of fuck and shit
Over every little bit.
Something out of nothing
Type of petty nitwits.

Gummy, gabby, toothless.
Greasy, forty weight hands
Clenching tight and ruthless.
Fists pounding half baked hams.

I guess they’ve always been there,
Though I've tried to block them out.
The endless barking mongrels
And yelling all about.

Life goes unregarded,
Picking petty, paltry nothings.
I shouldn’t say retarded,
But mental growth goes wanting.

A duck flaps across the water.
So pondering its' existence.
I guess it’s just another
Spontaneous, fluttering, fleeting instance.

Would it be much trouble
To let me catch this grace in passing?
Shut up you motherfuckers!
I found a prayer withstanding.


11/26/20