Vespers

A few months ago

I sat on the edge of a lake

As one of the short days of summer

Sank below the western mountains.

Then the breeze was strong

And clean. The cool air moved all

Around, drying my storm-drenched

Tent, and whispering “relax.”

We didn’t have enough to eat,

On that splendid evening.

But, when I wanted seconds,

She gave me the last of it.

I wonder if I can ever get

Enough of this mundane miracle

Of dinners and lunches,

And breakfasts and snacks.

I am a hungry man,

Stacking my plate two or three

Layers high at the cornucopias of

family reunions and thanksgivings.

There is so much food

On this earth: rashers, breads

Roasts, venison, soups, apples,

Beets, pies, wines, and curries.

I have nine or ten

Short decades to taste it,

Appreciate it, savor it,

Love it, share it.

I will never enjoy all of it,

But I can say

The small, inadequate words

I learned so long ago:

“Bless us our Lord,

For these thy gifts.

Which we are about to receive,

Through the Bounty of Christ, our Lord.”