Packing School Lunches
What scene would I want to find comfort in
more than this one,
an ordinary morning in the farmhouse kitchen,
blue checked curtains swaying,
wooden shelves with plates and jars,
the radio softly playing,
a paring knife in my hand?
It gives me time to think
about all that is waking outside--
birds calling from the trees,
dew glistening on the garden's leaves,
while beyond the fields the world rolls on,
vivid, bustling, dawn breaking with the day.
But beyond this kitchen
there is nothing that I need,
not even a ticket to some grand event,
or a sleek, silver-trimmed coffee maker
that sits in shiny kitchens downtown.
No, it's all here,
the orange slices in their clear plastic bags,
the loaf of bread on the cutting board,
a jar of blackberry jam,
not to mention the child's painting
held to the fridge by a magnet,
and the way these three lunch bags--
each a different color--
wait in quiet stillness.
So forgive me
if I pause now and listen
to the hum of the refrigerator as it purrs
while my mind
wanders a bit across the acres,
where the sunlight
gently warms the wheat
and my thoughts rest in a farmhouse
surrounded by rolling hills
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