GRANDMA'S KITCHEN

I’m sure we all have happy memories
of  holiday dinners with family.
This poem is a tribute to those meals
at the home of my paternal grandparents …
Grandma Katie rotund and loving, and
Grandpa Fred small in stature and long
in Baptist spirit!
Submitted to Poets United Poetry Pantry#380
November 26, 2017

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I remember Grandma’s kitchen
From those days of long ago
For never king nor president
Saw such a wondrous show.

The smell of Grandma’s dumplings
I remember to this day
And, just as surely I recall
Grandpa saying “Let us pray”.

And large and small we’d bow our heads
Each seated in our place
And over all a silence fell
While grandpa said the grace.

“The crops”, he’d say, “are mighty dry.
Lord, we pray you see fit for rain.
And Neighbor Brown is poorly, Lord
We pray you ease his pain.”

And the trails of steam grew shorter
Over Grandma’s wondrous bounty
As Grandpa brought before the Lord
Each sinner in the county.

Then “We pray, oh Lord, for wisdom
For the leaders of our land
That they may steer this country
With a sure and steady hand.”

His burdens laid upon the Lord
Grandpa would finally reach “amen”
When heads were raised, our forks were poised
All ready to dig in.

Now I know Grandpa’s in heaven
As it is his rightful place
But, when God’s hungry, I’ll bet he says
“You set the table, Fred, I’ll say the grace!”

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Painting by Eric Enstrom