The Thanksgiving Cactus

Here in a chair 
in a cozy corner of this room, 
under the glow of a lamp, 
with the sun replaced by 
the moon     hanging 
boldly in the sky, I pause 
to consider the small pink buds 
of a toothed cactus, 

and I pause to consider 
the moon as well,     although 
it is too far away to touch, 
and in my pausing I feel 
as if I am a wave on the ocean 
or a seed     pulsing 
in a warmer season, now 
that the leaves have gone 

from most of the trees, now 
that frost dusts the brittle grass 
most mornings, now 
that weather keeps us more 
indoors,     so that we are more 
able to be together, even more 
together, even during moments 
in lamplight     like this one.

Posted by kind permission of the poet.
Photo by Lesli Whitecotton