Through the kitchen window,
Barb brisks about, here and there,
Shawntel fills up soapy buckets, Debbie organizes desserts,
Michelle makes
snacks for the Sunday school children.
These women,
new to this kitchen,
With hands familiar for the tasks,
hearts willing.
My eyes are spilling
as I measure the legacy,
Cups and quarts, hundreds of meals
Generations, aproned
and humming
The keys
unceremoniously passed
To Clarissa, Elise,
Danica,
from Darla, Mavis,
and Margaret,
From the ones before
them
and before them.
Arriving early in the morning, cleaning late into the
afternoon,
the stomachs filled and the connections made,
hands clasped and prayers said
over this broken bread.
