Feed Me

Feed me love

Your grandmother’s steaming hot chicken soup. The pungent rosemary recipe she stirred on the stove, when your young throat was sore and your poor head ached.

Feed me joy

Lemon meringue pie, the white whisked so quick, the light, foamy sugar dissolves like snowflakes on warm tongues. The fruit tart and sweet.

Feed me truth

Rip the roughage out of the ground, pick the peaches off the tress, I want to smell the earth in your kitchen. I want to taste the garden you tend. And know your soul is part of the soil.

I’ll set the silver with kindness and warmth. And wait patiently at your table.