Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Rain & Harvest to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
The table groans with plenty, and the candles glow like stars,
And the smell of roasted chestnuts drifts across the room from afar.
There are yams and beans and cornbread, and a bowl of golden peas,
And a roasted bird of glory, and the scent that soothes and teases.
The family joins their hands, and the grandmother bows her head,
And she thanks the Lord for harvest, and for all the blessings spread.
Then each one shares a memory of a thing they're glad to hold,
A friend, a health restored, a home, a story to be told.
The little ones are giggling, and the elders raise a cup,
And the gladness in the room is a joy that lifts you up.
So let us count our blessings, both the great and the small,
For a heart that gives thanks daily is the richest one of all.
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Commentary
A harvest feast is not only about food. This poem sits at a full table and follows the gratitude that turns the meal into a memory.
“The table groans with plenty, and the candles glow like stars.” The dishes include “yams and beans and cornbread,” “golden peas” and “a roasted bird of glory.” “The family joins their hands,” and the grandmother “thanks the Lord for harvest, and for all the blessings spread.”
Then “each one shares a memory of a thing they’re glad to hold,” a friend, health restored, a home. “The little ones are giggling, and the elders raise a cup.” The poem closes: “let us count our blessings, both the great and the small, for a heart that gives thanks daily is the richest one of all.”