I was looking for a poem that was appropriate for thanksgiving, but not too sentimental. This one seemed to fit the bill.
Te Deum
Not because of victories
I sing,
having none,
but for the common sunshine,
the breeze,
the largess of spring.
Not for victory
but for the day’s work done
as well as I was able;
not for a seat upon the dais
but at the common table.
Charles Reznikoff
Reznikoff lived in Brooklyn, the son of Russian immigrants. I remember loving this poem of his many years ago:
You think yourself a woman,
because you have children and lovers;
but in a street
with only Orion and the Pleiades to see us,
you begin to sing, you begin to skip.
So that’s two for the holiday.