Poetry: Feast

Poetry: Feast

Sol yet slumbers, still hides her beaming.

Darkness, profound swathes the household with sedate folds.

The kitchen wakes, her ovens firing to life–

Brimming with savor its bounty shortly teeming.

Heavenly aromas swell and creep

Through dim shadowed halls and bedrooms, calm and dreaming.

On the tails of the first golden strains,

Life begins to stir. Waking souls begin to rise;

To subdued culinary chorus

Add their husky bass rhythms and staccato refrains.

Fully alive now, the home glories,

As her charges’ song courses through wood-hewn veins.

More now arrive and their numbers surge.

Matched by the delicacies now scattered

Across the valiant, straining table.

Famished denizens and guests alike converge,

On bounteous provisions laden.

Sprightly cadence hushes, tones tender thanks now urge.

With indulgence of tongue and soul,

Roars back to forte that old, familiar medley.

Joined by aged voices resonating,

Now sings the very walls, unfurling as a scroll.

Contentment oozes, infectious from

One to another, spreading, consuming them whole.

The table is cleared, bare and at rest,

The orchestra plays mezzo piano cadence,

Punctuated by clinking of dish,

And muffled suds scrubbing plates smeared and messed.

In midst of muted conversation hum,

The steadfast house sighs, heady, crowded, blessed.

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