Once in awhile a fellow blogger will poke a poem out of me. Thanks Evelyne, I feel a little better now:
Herd camped at the gate,
waiting for it to open
to the corral,
to the lead-ups and chutes
for processing
before spitting them out
to rush into another
crowded pen
on the TV news as if
Wall Street’s making hay
with everybody shopping
for the holidays—
as if we’ve traded
mashed potatoes, turkey, stuffing
and gravy with cranberries
and family for a bargain
with a credit card—
as if all the cattle
really want in.
drycrikjournal 
and the cows prove they are the smart ones
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Feeling bovine and flinching.
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I blush! But I’m happy that a poem came out of my little prose. Happy Thanksgiving, John!
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No need to blush, Evelyne. This ad-driven, consumer culture verges on insanity from my perspective. I get to thinking people are nuts, but thanks to one of your commenters, I realize that those folks camped for weeks outside stores before Black Friday are in the minority. A Happy Thanksgiving to you and your family. Maybe a little more rain by the weekend.
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