Thursday, February 9, 2012

Menus, Marriage, and Meaning

Standing in the condo kitchen
That looks out over the sea,
We were cooking for friends,
As we used to, my man and me.
He prepared steak Diane;
I prepped devilish shrimp.
Then I moved on to salad
Until he needed ingredients.

As I was his sous chef,
Because this was his menu,
I waited until he gave me
Something I could do.
When I choose the menu,
He does the same for me.
This is my idea of marriage
In all it's shining glory.

We schlepped the food to town
Where the husband set a fine table.
He felt such a special meal
Deserved to seem regal.
There were tapered candles,
And the good china plates,
A blessing said in Hebrew,
As we bowed our heads and ate.

Is this less sacred than church?
I think it is surely not.
Each part of our eating together
Was with love begot.
My husband had earned the money
That bought our daily bread
And each participant served a role
To which we had felt led.

We broke bread with good friends,
And a struggling nursing student,
Sheltered by this father and mother.
Is this what, "Feed my sheep," meant?
There was a simple blessing and thanks
There were no fancy robes or rituals,
But when we departed their home,
My body, heart and soul all felt full.


  1. Great poem. I was right with you and Richard as you prepared and served the food. Sounds like a feast among friends, Love and Joy shared.
    Finally peace of a good deed and job well done.

  2. There is nothing so satisfying as serving others and knowing that you have done it with excellence! "Well done!"