Happy Thankgiving, everyone. I'm out of town until Sunday, but wanted to leave these greetings with you. The following poem is from a contest I entered a LONG time ago. The form: Whitney. Seven lines exactly. Syllable count per line as follows: three, four, three, four, three, four, seven. In this case, each poet had to use the word "harvest" somewhere within the text of the poem, but could not use "harvest" in the title.
Enjoy and have a blessed day!
Fields of gold Yellow and orange Brown and red Bounty bestowed Harvest done Praise uplifted Thankful for good gifts given.