This is part of our Voices of Thanksgiving series. You can find all the stories and reflections of gratitude here.
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Giving Thanks
for Broken Bread
for Broken Bread
Thunder crumbles, stale bread
through worn hands. He breaks
the cloud to succumb—to become
unhazed—and sifts sky:
pick pocketing
leaking light
speckling. Us, painted
shelled like a sparrow,
prone to cracks. Snaspshot
this peace between
Perfection and Probability
—For our chance of rain
was weighting the world.
