Day 510: If God Was A Cook
∴
i have a little vegetable garden
that has grown well this season,
and as the autumnal days
grow cooler and gold,
and hang their grey clouds low
in the sunlit, cerulean blue,
the harvest becomes
more precious:
fruit from forth the vine
tendrils death in time
and every seed,
abundant being,
is giving as it climbs.
so i twisted the tomatoes,
till off their branches came,
and i clutched bunches of basil
in the cold and listless rain,
and brought them in;
i brought them in.
it is a reverent act:
to cook.
to chop and stew
and thicken the roux,
and listen to alchemy aiming.
it is the layman’s
transubstantiation.
but when you cook for children,
it’s an act of humility.
rare do they respond
with courteous civility.
it makes me think –
God must be a cook, too.
i bet He makes things
in colors and flavors and textures
beyond compare.
i bet He builds them from
the best of His crop.
i bet He sets the table daily,
with place cards
and flowers
and candlelight,
and says,
“come and eat;
try
what I would serve.”
but we are so young.
refined tastes
offend our growing tongues,
so we squinch our noses
and pinch our lips
and keep asking,
“what is in this????”
picking,
sifting,
fearing,
spitting,
segregating spinach.
it makes me laugh
when i think this way,
and helps me take my plate
with better manners.
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