Ice Pebbles Dancing                     

The morning sun through the windshield is warm on my arms,
Recalling the warmth of family and food,
Shared around my brother's Thanksgiving table.
As my wife and I roll homeward,
Through the Wisconsin countryside,
The legend on the truck trailer ahead catches my eye,
"Two Amigos, Winnipeg Manitoba".

My mind drifts back to another meal,
We same three brothers shared nearly 50 years earlier.
Our mother had died 4 weeks after Christmas that year,
And our father took time off from his job to spend with us.
I could not remember ever feeling closer to him.
But as summer approached, his focus shifted.
He decided to take us to our uncle's farm near Winnipeg,
For our summer vacation,
While he devoted himself to courting our future stepmother.
Perhaps he also felt it was time for us to learn,
The lessons he had learned on his father's farm as a boy,
The meaning of "early to bed and early to rise",
And "earn your keep".

The farm meal was memorable for a hapless fly in the frying pan.
"Fried flies" one brother had joked to his cousin.
Our Uncle's wife was embarrassed,
Cross words were uttered,
And we three boys were shipped to a different household,
To spend the rest of the summer with another of our mother's siblings.

That long ago time is almost forgotten now.
This Thanksgiving has been a happy family time together,
One of many over the years.

The first snow of the season greeted us when we woke this morning.
On either side it coats fields and trees that we are passing now.
Small chunks of icy snow,
From the roof of the Canadian truck,
Shatter on the pavement ahead of us,
And in the truck's turbulent wake,
Bright ice pebbles dance in the sunlight.