Gathering

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

Transmission towers,

Words written, walking towards the family,

Gathered, in praise of the past, the sun, the earth,

The rain, the plenty, the love, the sandpipers,

The kelp,

Our ocean,

Our lives.