By Jen Hunt 11/28
Poetry Challenge: One Bad Poem a Day
Lord, I cannot store any more thanks
There’s not enough room to contain it
Building more barns you only despise
When hoarding miser’s grain
The heart overflowing, to the contraire
You value as great prize.
So build on, Soul--
Raise your roof!
There’s a thanksgiving harvest to store
Time to make room
For the bounty
Joy intends to settle for more.