Carving The Thanksgiving Turkey

Here I'm in the celebration of life;
counting out syllables for this sonnet,
thinking this is cutting like a sharp knife
at the bone, I hack to feast upon it.

As I open yet another quatrain,
peeling back the muscle of memories,
definately turning against the grain,
yet seeing the juices flowing with ease,

the stomach to palate lets out a groan,
as hunger precedes a person enthralled,
a poetic bird roasted to atone,
with closing couplet to toast a resolve:

What revelation in all thanksgiving
kindled through an appitite for living.