Kitchen Counters

Kitchen counters dusted in white flour
Witness countless afternoons like this.
Fingers dipped in oil pass the hour
Forming dough as daughters reminisce.

I’ve witnessed countless afternoons like this,
Kitchen windows hot with with noonday sun.
Dry skillet, water droplets hiss,
Hinting that our work has just begun.

Kitchen windows, hot with noonday sun
Reflect rows of spices rarely used.
Hinting that our work is never done,
Herbs flavor best after they’ve been bruised.

Amid the rows of spices rarely used,
Unwritten verses loose their ageless power.
Herbs flavor best after they’ve been bruised
On kitchen counters dusted in white flour.

Making Everything Good Possible

I sit on our Idaho patio listening to the summer breeze,
Listening to the black walnut leaves rustle softly.
Middle age transforms into sixth grade vacation,
When New Hampshire summers stretched beyond the horizon.

Listening to the black walnut leaves rustle softly
Reminds me of cool breezes through Nana’s porch.
New Hampshire summers, stretching beyond the horizon,
Made everything good possible.

Cool breezes through Nana’s porch
Lulled me into daydreams,
Making everything good possible
As we planned an afternoon at Hampton Beach.

Lulled into daydreams,
I picture my footprints disappearing in wet sand
And remember afternoons at Hampton Beach
As I sit on our Idaho patio listening to the summer breeze.