Morning is for gathering
In ancient times, the legumes and leaves
To make the daily stew, flavored with
Dried spices, cinnamon, anise, yarrow.
Not a chore but a tradition,
Gathered in praise of sun and earth and rain.
My grandmother’s mornings too
Were for gathering.
The children at the table, oatmeal turned purple
With sugar. Cream from bottles left by
The Dairy Mart Man.
The family, all ten, heads bowed in prayer,
Gathered in praise of plenty and love.
Mama’s mornings for gathering,
A pattern in one hand, a dress to sew for me,
Recipes in the other, cinnamon rolls for Ronnie,
These set out for evening, for morning is
The gathering of beach towels, flip flops, a rough wool army blanket,
Sun tan oil. Off we’d go, a short walk to a long day
Gathered in praise of the sandpipers, the kelp, our ocean.
My mornings are for gathering,
Sifting ideas and sensations and memories,
To cook into a stew of words,
To share over miles of cables and
Words written, walking towards the family,
Gathered, in praise of the past, the sun, the earth,
The rain, the plenty, the love, the sandpipers,