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
at
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
bells
which my mother
handed down when i arrived
from a quarter of a century
away from my kentucky home
a generational housewarming gift
as
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
says
simply
Ruby Falls
i am happy to be alive