Life With Horace

poetry & essays

The Stuffing Bowl

4 Comments

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.

Author: Life With Horace

Poetry & Essays

4 thoughts on “The Stuffing Bowl

  1. I used just such a stuffing bowl today! Thanks for the poem.

    Like

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