Pie II

No matter how you make your Thanksgiving pie—
whether you’re working from your grandmother’s spidery handwriting,
or you and your brother are trying to peel apples by impaling them on a drill
and laughing,
or both—
the important ingredients are always the same:
There is always a cheerful mess
and the alchemy of steam and butter and flour;
always—at least at first—
a house filled with the smell of something wonderful baking.

No matter how your Thanksgiving meal goes—
no matter your politics
or your pronouns,
whether someone is joining the meal for the first time
or someone is absent for the first time—
there is always the promise of pie
and freshly made coffee
and a moment when everyone at the table
shares the same moment of sweetness
and blessed silence
and reflects on a day that requires
and attention
and trust.
Have another slice.