Email Poem

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Poem

Though my faith in God is firmly entrenched
still rainy days serve to get me down,
"What's for Supper?" like continual downpour
bears down on four-o'clock like I've been drenched.
God, my thirst for this rain to quit, be quenched!

Home from school at three, three kids start asking
"What's for Supper?" while in poetry I'm basking.
#Gallimaufry had brought to light - heavenly hash
when searching online I'd used the hashtag.
Hallelujah! tonight's supper I'm unmasking.

Loosing the fridge door I look around
Leftover roast beef looms round about
which brings smiles as my delight shuts it.
My prayer answered, a meal that cuts it.
Thank God, Sunday's feast becomes my whatsit.  

In my galley I forage for food I can fry,
pantry reveals four spuds not sprouting eyes,
two lone onions and garlic in plain eyesight.
The extras I am needing sit on standby.
Praise God who does my hope supply.

August 4, 2022

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