water bubbles in the kettle,
news and weather murmur
from the kitchen radio.
Reading and prayers, each
of us in turn, and finally
Come dear Lord
and be our guest. Then
corn flakes with milk, one small glass
of juice, toast with gooseberry jam.
Or bran flakes in the bowl,
rhubarb jam on the toast.
We come home at noon to brown buns
with salami, a little lettuce, maybe cheese.
Canned fruit and cookies after.
It's Come dear Lord quickly mumbled, then
a reatreat into separate worlds:
the Old West, the Future, Middle Earth.
For supper, a steaming casserole,
dill pickles, bread and butter.
Dessert every night. We're fond of sweets.
But first: and let this food
tu use be blessed Amen. We joke,
argue, fall silent. We remark on
the state of the world.
We pass the milk.
5 comments:
This radiates homey peace and comfort. Simplicity plainspun but neatly stitched.
In 1st stanza what about "then flakes, corn or bran, with milk...etc...toast with gooseberry or rhubarb jam." there's a small rhyme there without being Dr. Seussian (something I fall into occasionally) and it tightens focus a bit.
I find the last 3 lines quite perfect, content and order. "We pass the milk." YES.
No sorry - "then flakes with milk (corn or bran), small glass of juice, toast with g'berry or rhu. jam" was what I meant. But now you have 2 comments which is better than none.
These meals all seem very similar and quiet. Is this a refuge from noisier, busier parts of the day? If so, I'd like to feel that more. Or maybe some distinction between the mood/energy level of different the meals (maybe through more description of the food). I like the level of detail, and even the spareness, but I want to know how the speaker feels about these family gatherings.
At first I thought this was a particular day, Sunday, explaining why it's so restful. But then there's the line toward the end about dessert every night, which changes thingsnto this being a series of days, seemingly, and unending series. It's like these days are their own universe.
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