Memories of Childhood Thanksgiving Services
We gather together
we stand with heads bowed
to ask the Lord’s blessing
on this dear old crowd.
He hastens and chastens
but slowly and rarely
his will to make known
though we do it but barely.
The wicked oppressing
a long time ago
now cease from distressing
and here comes the snow.
The Lord be ever praised,
we’ll have a good meal
he forgets not his own
and the stuffing’s unreal.
Slow Literature 
The songstress is singing
Again. Ms Mudgeon is back
In rhythm. She’s bringing,
As gifts her smile-full sack
Of wordtroves. They shine
With wit and precision
Just as each final line
Cuts: a surgeon-incision.
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Wow, I’m flabbered. Thanks, Albert.
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