Once spied up on a dusty shelf
and brought home as a prize
the stuffing bowl sits quiet
holding memory in its curve
The sisterhood of early rising cooks
assembling the ingredients
of timeless celebrations
ingatherings of family and friends
all linked by common filament
It waits for careful hands
to lift it down and fill its heart again
with love and thankfulness
_______________________________
My sister Annie and I have always called each other on Thanksgiving morning, up early, cooking.
November 26, 2015 at 8:41 am
Beautiful!
LikeLike
November 27, 2015 at 12:36 am
Thanks Jackie!
LikeLike
November 27, 2015 at 12:42 am
I used just such a stuffing bowl today! Thanks for the poem.
LikeLike
November 28, 2015 at 10:08 am
How nice to know you did, I’m not surprised, lovely sister cook. You are most welcome.
LikeLike