Like the Pilgrims of history and ancient lore
We celebrate our first Thanksgiving
In a strange new place, far from the home we left

We journeyed over tempest tossed seas
And there were times we feared our craft would sink
But it was sturdy, and it did not fail

The natives didn’t notice our arrival
No stalks of corn or pumpkin gourds
But neither did they arm for an attack.

We found a place out of the storms
That greeted us with drenching rain
And and lit the skies at midnight.

We learned the way across the river
To a place where there was food for us
And those who offered what we need.

In time we met some friendly natives
Who welcomed us to their tribal dance
And taught us the steps, and about the weather

And how to survive in this new land
Of rocks and hills and gullies
That flood faster then you can run

And the season of the long hard heat
When everybody goes to ground or runs away
And only dire need forces you outdoors.

We captured an unfamiliar bird
That looks to provide a decent feast
And we are grateful we can eat

And shelter safely in this new place
That now will be our final home.
And prove to us that God is good.
                ljm