When they appear side-by-side

on the same written page,

cope and hope may appear

to be close cousins.

In truth, these four-letter words

on the winding highway of life

are miles apart emotionally.

As Thanksgiving approaches,

on another sun-swept

Sonoran November day,

I realize I reside

somewhere in between

the harsh, heavy realities of c

and the lofty prospects of h.

Maybe the best I can do

in my numbness

is to stand tall and

keep breathing,

to extend my gifts

to those I love,

trust, and respect,

while protecting

the passions and ideals

in the strands of my DNA

from greedy, heedless fools

in this broken, foreign land.