- Books, Literature, and Writing
That Thursday in November
That day--November--in Vermont was cold.
We knew this would be true, we were not told,
As though we needed news--yes, at the start
We simply traveled past each frozen farm.
We knew it soon would change with leaves on trees,
Still active autumn leaves surrounding these
Fine homes near Washington in warmer air.
Is this then why there are more people there?
Before this in Vermont--yes, we gave thanks.
That snowy day! We drank wine chilled. The banks
Of snow were there. One by the back door chilled
That white wine for the feast. Vermont was filled
Sometimes with snow. But Maryland was where
We later went, and now I have a care
To walk by faith in Christ where I now live.
Some hard, resisting things just will not give.
And yet we should give thanks--those many ways
That stress does sanctify. They are like haze
That rises up betimes, and we cry out.
The Lord is gracious. How He helps, though stout
The stresses be, though dark our view in these
Profound distresses and calamities.
Let's count our blessings--many times God has
Enlarged our coasts--the world is full of jazz
And strange profundities--they bid us think
Of dust on scales--yes, we are small--we stink.
We have our sin and, yes, we do not know
How long, O Lord--You did declare the bow
To be the sign of Noah's covenant
And there it is at shower's end--we can't
Be but so awed by such a sign aglow
With color--we continue with our woe.
This world will not stay flooded--each flood stops.
Each war will stop as well, then reap the crops.
And each year we give thanks as on we go.
The new technologies--where things were slow
Are now profoundly fast and now this thing
Is come upon us--MP3s will sing
And programs will have upgrades for our use.
It is a stormy ocean now let loose.
And so that Thursday in November may
Be cold or warm. Let's give thanks on this day
For this life is not ever safe or sound.
Christ's gospel is our comfort, most profound.