Weekly Poem: Thanksgiving Day

November 29, 2013

By Don McIver

From the road,
the Brazos Cliffs rise up suddenly from the valley floor,
as the mountain falls away
and leaves brown, gray rock
exposed like broken bones.

I imagine being the first to trundle up the hillside in furs
with food,
and stepping up to the ridge and looking out
and down:
2,000 feet.

On the valley floor,
we step on fresh powder,
watching the snowshoes sink
and then support,
creating rectangular tracks
as we dart through leafless Aspen, Douglas Fir, and Blue Spruce.
Only the wind, the occasional jet overhead,
and the occasional trucker applying their “Jake Brakes”
breaks the silence
and squishing snow.

In the cold,
we pass around the tuna fish sandwiches
and watch the storm settle into the valley.
As the wind blows the snow up around our wrapped faces,
we pull the gloves back on,
strap our feet in snowshoes,
and head back the way we came.

Watching football
seems like such a waste of time.

This piece was written by:

Don McIver

Basic Human Needs Award winning poet, Don McIver is a four time member of the ABQ slam team, a host/producer of KUNM’s Spoken Word Hour, the author of The Blank Page, The Noisy Pen, and editor of A Bigger Boat: The Unlikely Success of the Albuquerque Poetry Slam Scene. He’s performed all over the United States including the Colorado Performance Poetry Festival, Tucson Poetry Festival, the 3SidedWhole, the 2011 and 2012 Solofest, and TedXABQ, and TedXABQ Women. He’s produced, curated, and hosted poetry events big and small including the 2005 National Poetry Slam, and been published in numerous magazines and anthologies. He’s a board member of New Mexico Literary Arts, a former Albuquerque Slam master, a member of the Executive Council of PSi from 2006-08, he Poetry Wrangler for Sunday-Chatter (where he’s performed numerous times), and is the Poetry Curator for the NewMexicoMercury.com.