The Ember in November

The year’s flame burns low,
Igniting gratitude’s coals,
And one-by-one I count my blessing.

I am grateful for my birth,
Upon this planet Earth:
A blessing for my soul.

Gratitude is November’s ember,
Its fuel is the little things I take for granted,
Its oxygen the prayer of thanks
I intone at dawn.

I am grateful for the morning sun,
For the snow blanketing Mount Charleston,
And to the Veterans of uncounted wars.
Whose sacrifices protect my freedom.

Line Count: 14
Form: Free Verse