This is part of our Voices of Thanksgiving series. You can find all the stories and reflections of gratitude here.
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.
