Summer Kitchen

Summer Kitchen

In June’s high light she stood at the sink

With a glass of wine,

And listened for the bobolink,

And crushed garlic in late sunshine.

 

I watched her cooking, from my chair.

She pressed her lips

Together, reached for kitchenware

And tasted sauce from her fingertips.

 

“It’s ready now. Come on,” she said.

“You light the candle.”

We ate, and talked, and went to bed,

And slept. It was a miracle.

–Donald Hall, White Apples and the Taste of Stone

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