On Thanksgiving Eve
 
the last Canada geese flee
 
to a warmer place.

 
 
 

Last night of the year—
 
in his favorite dumpster,
 
a homeless man snores.

 
 
 

How satisfying
 
to eat an avocado
 
as the old year ends!

 
 
 

Four days past Christmas
 
some California mountains
 
wear new coats of snow.

 
 
 

Three days past Christmas
 
I sharpen my secateurs
 
to prune the plum tree.

 
 
 

Two days past Christmas
 
I give thanks for farmworkers
 
pruning the grapevines.

 
 
 

Tell me, sister crow,
 
now that Christmas Day is past,
 
does the light still shine?

 
 
 

On Christmas morning,
 
the only path before me
 
leads to a manger.

 
 
 

Christmas Eve journey—
 
tramping to the bird feeder,
 
I bear gifts of seed.

 
 
 

Blackbird in the oak,
 
perhaps I’ll listen to you
 
on some other day.