Confluence

Three weeks ago I froze

half the chicken from the club pack, and

two months ago our daughters

planted basil on our porch, and

two years ago the vines

formed grapes that dangled in the sun, and

decades ago today you

were born.

You will come home from work on this

rainy, jet-lagged Wednesday, and I

will have cooked that Thai dish and

poured glasses of Gewurztraminer.

You will sit at our table, and I will

give thanks for many things.