BLESSING MY SISTER'S KITCHEN

BLESSING MY SISTER’S KITCHEN

What is it that drives us from the fortress

of our self to seek the company and conversation

of other beings who mirror us endlessly

in the strange world in which we live?

            --First Digression,  Unpacking My Library

                        Alberto Manguel

I.

Toasted marshmallow Greek yogurt

with raspberries, orange scones, bacon,

set plates for yellow yokes beside

baked egg bread pudding, mixing

Savory Boursin cheese and spinach

in ramekins. My sister’s life in wetlands

with husband Craig. Table blessings

of unguarded talk, books with surprising

titles, and song. Each other's eyes.

Places set for strangers, nobody holding

or petitioning milder and safer ways to enter

Sunday morning. Snow warnings

II.

have been noted.  My sister and husband

live in a cabin-made home in wetlands

in Maple Valley, outside of Seattle, surrounded

by trees, pond, animals like bear and cougar--

for one's breath-sake--that's a starter.

Before breakfast we watch

Oregon Juncos, California Quail, sparrows

and a Towhee, red and white breasted

kind of robin-like. So many birds

who cannot hear the city, like my sister,

who has access through dark roads

known only by locals. Their old kitchen,

a galley, has been gutted, made new

supported by sturdy hidden rafters.

My sister and her husband

have crossed the Atlantic Ocean

in a small sailing boat. They are sailors

and have known loss and joy sailors know.

They savvy sailor-talk of storms.

They share long marriage, adult children,

grand children--and young as they are

III.

my wife and I consider them elders.

My wife brought vases for kitchen window

flowers. I brought a book of poems

of love, longing, and loss, with illustrations

made to slow one's day. We find ourselves

before the meal discussing the word Supine

which was heard the night before

on Public Broadcasting Service

where the conservative spokesman

spoke about the Republican Congress,

calling them out, supine, suffering from

a learned helplessness. From dictionaries,

both online,  and book form, (a terrific

old library copy discarded and gifted),

we find mental or moral lethargy,

lying on one's back, indolent,

sluggish, mean spirited; indifferent

to one's duty. Facing upward,

I'll add that and be done with it.

Antonyms are not listed online

but they're here, on the page:

Keen, alert, proud, self-respecting.

I recall how Hamlet's mother

called her son keen as his play

unfolded. You are keen, My Lord,

she says. Not so much, as...well,

there's more in the footnotes in your Signet

Shakespeare. I've been called these words,

I say, all but self-respecting--

but we're here to celebrate this kitchen,

the light you bring, and the birds

you feed. This food is getting cold,

and this is table talk.

Love, Jim

Your brother

23-24 February 2019

Photos by Karen Bodeen