Kind friends in the land of virtual reading,
I wanted to send word of my continual breathing.
For recently my existence you may have doubted,
But no fear, my friends, I haven’t been outed.
For here in the quiet I wait for a task
As deep sighs of boredom here do pass.
For here at work all files have been filed
And sadly indeed all lowly reports compiled.
Minutes birth months, Seconds birth hours,
But still hope lives within me and in me it flowers.
For when alas the hour of five arrives
Out to the streets we’ll run like bees to our hives.
Car after car we’ll fill the streets in a car ballet
And stop-and-go traffic will begin with no delay.
As this passenger smiles at the time therefore wasted
And wonders if she’ll make it despite no time hasted.
But after the days and hours and weeks,
To the church she’ll arrive with color in her cheeks.
And there the weekend she’ll spend with the youth
Each one joyously grinning sharing each tooth.
Alas, my dear friends, the big and the small,
Indeed, Monica’s not dead… no not dead at all.
She is merely enjoying what life brings her way,
The job, the traffic, the ministry and the play.
So to all as the time comes, and indeed comes quite fast,
I wish you the most blessed Thanksgiving blast.
And may you find thanks in each and every way,
For the things God has given you, throughout each boring day.