Home For Thanksgiving
The gathering family
throws shadows around us,
it is the late afternoon
Of the family.
There is still enough light
to see all the way back,
but at the windows
that light is wasting away.
Soon we will be nothing
but silhouettes: the sons'
as the fathers'.
Soon the daughters
will take off their aprons
as trees take off their leaves
Let us eat quickly--
let us fill ourselves up.
the covers of the album are closing
Linda Pastan's Other Poems
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