At Bus Stops on Thanksgiving Day by Donal Mahoney

Before dawn, people
who work on Thanksgiving Day
wait in the wind for a bus
to arrive or maybe not.
It’s too cold to talk
so the people stand
like minutemen and plan
a revolution that would shock
nice families who drive by later,
children tucked in scarves
and mittens, laughing
all the way to Nana’s house
for turkey, gravy, stuffing
and later in the day
a ballerina of whipped cream
twirling on pumpkin pie.
Thanksgiving is the day
America asks for seconds
and sorts its servers
from the served.

5 Responses to “At Bus Stops on Thanksgiving Day by Donal Mahoney”

  1. Arlin Buyert Says:

    scot, Great poem, very moving and I particularly love the last line.
    Arlin.

  2. Yes…Donal nailed the last line I’d day

  3. Thank you, Donal. Expresses well the Two Americas we live in.

  4. Thank you, Donal, for this poignant & evocative poem. Winnie

  5. Says it all and rightly.

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