Yellow leaves cling to the tree outside my sunroom window,
the last batch before the deep freeze comes, on this day when the big balloons
make their way down Broadway in the city that never sleeps across the river,
this day when we seek reasons to be thankful, when – at this time of life –
grateful just to have survived, having had what we hand when we had it, a gift
beyond reckoning, appreciating the small things that over time have become big
things, even when they have settled down into the yellow leaves of memory,
those things that cling to us and resist the deep freeze we know must inevitably
come.
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