Ruby Falls

this evening’s dinner
being prepared
culinary witchcraft
conjured over a boiling pot
as i chant recipe spells
i stand transcendent
red apron happy
my kitchen window
a whole house breeze
offering a reprieve
for peeling potatoes destined for mashing
to accompany
the world’s most
meticulous meat loaf
and fresh green beans
i am smiling at the antique brass
which my mother
handed down when i arrived
from a quarter of a century
away from my kentucky home
a generational housewarming gift
my grand mother hung these same
tiny bells in this same window
forty tears before
my ears now hear them sing as they chime
an aria
so i consider the musical notes
as they sparkle like memaw’s eyes when she laughed
looking closer than a six year old would
i see the bells are etched
one with bluebirds
the other
Ruby Falls
i am happy to be alive

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