The Latter Part of November

The Latter Part of November

As long as I can remember,

In the latter part of the month of November.

We’d gather from all points of the earth,

To a place warming around the hearth.

There was family and friends and acquaintances a many,

All spinning tales, handshakes and hugs a plenty.

Their lives they wanted to share and memories still to make,

Stories of things now nothing more than a family keepsake.

Dad standing near or seated in his chair,

Told stories of yesteryear of hunting and deer.

It was the part of his life that he knew the best,

As his children moved near and fell upon his chest.

Aunts and uncles a plenty, cousin never too many,

Walked through the open door into a house filled with plenty.

Mom in her apron with hands working her magic,

Stuffing the bird using a thingamajig or old gadget.

My cousins, some older some younger,

Joined with me and my brothers to plunder.

Searching the house for anything new,

Something that might have been overlooked or left askew.

Once the stories were told, the treasure hunting all done,

We heard the familiar call for everyone to come.

Squeezed around a full table of blessings,

We each bowed our heads, folded hands, with some confessing.

Another year had come and gone,

Filled with joy, love, and tears for those called home.

Yet, our gathers rejoiced that we too would slip away,

And greet those who’ve passed over, those who could not stay.

It was a simpler time for all who can remember,

In the latter part of the month of November.

When precious souls gathered to recall,

Blessing throughout the year and love for all.

By: Dan R. Fowler

For Astrid