A Poem of Gratitude from Georgia

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Our daughter, seven, labeled her thanks last year —

My Family, Kittens, Reading, School, and Friends

on a silly-eyed construction-paper bird

she carried home, secure in every word

and the sturdiness of the world. It’s still here

on our fridge, one grateful-for per yellow feather.

Now eight, locked down, the only thanks she’ll give

is that “this year is nearly over.” We live

less certainly, watching hotspots and trends.

I add “our health,” and “that we’re here together.”

— Chelsea Rathburn, poet laureate of Georgia

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