Thursday, July 02, 2009

a handmade life

“It’s what’s inside the words,” she said;
“Inside heart there’s an ear and there’s art.”

After reading, I couldn’t help but look
for words among the bread and vegetables
that made up our simple supper last night,
both of us finally home after days
that felt longer than the time passed.
I couldn’t find God in the green beans,
or love in the tomatoes; no fun in foccacia;
not enough meal to make meaning.
But that's not the last word, is it?

The tomatoes tasted like the smile
of the brown baby at the farmer’s market;
the crisp sweet corn spelled summer
without letters; and the bread,
dipped in the olive oil we keep
for special occasions, was leavened
and flavored by all the suppers
we have shared together, fed
by the mystery in the mundane:
another day in our handmade life.

Peace,
Milton

8 comments:

A Simple Country Girl said...

I love the first two line and the last two...

When we take time to appreciate and eat of the handmade life God so graciously sets before us, all is good.

Blessings.

Laura said...

This celebrates a meal to me! What a lovely experience to share it with you.

L.L. Barkat said...

Loved the turning point... "But that's not the last word, is it?"

Clever and... making me hungry, in more ways than one. :)

Marcus Goodyear said...

Milton, these are so fun. I feel like I'm reading a budding male version of Mary Oliver.

Heidi Renee said...

food and words - my two favorite things in the world - oh my.

the crisp sweet corn spelled summer
without letters - home run. beautiful.

Claire said...

this leaves me breathless and somehow filled with breath at the same time.

Bev said...

I really love this poem - place it in a little rustic home with real people, with a veg garden, with earth, sun and water... living real with smiles!

mib said...

This celebrates a meal to me! What a lovely experience to share it with you