Days in the life of a poet

When life gets too complicated and our hearts and minds seek out what is good and provides us sustenance...poetry is the breath of life. Words allow us to communicate...to express that within us that is most precious and real. We crave that which is familiar and gives us comfort...read and receive*

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Sunday Dinner

At the old house again
the aromas waft out
from a slightly cracked window
the feeling is known well…
Grandma’s been cooking!

Inside, her tiny kitchen
spills over with
Uncle Rudy’s tall tales
sisters, aunts, womenfolk helping
simmering kidney beans
pan cornbread and fried chicken
and much laughter and…
Grandma’s sweet yams
So good you could
hurt yourself…really!

I’m the last arrival
Hugs, kisses and handshakes
Then the family sits
Cousin Melvin says grace
Giving God thanks

Love spreads
Warm as butter and
Settles in Grandma’s eyes
With a matronly sigh she
Looks over us, then
smiles*

Posted by at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)