Christian Poetry -92

There Should be a Word

for the way she stirs
pours, measures
the angle of her arm
shadow of her hand
at the stove

for the bend of her body
as she moves
steeped in sureness
to retrieve something fragrant
hearty, from the oven

if there was a word for that
I could paint her as clearly
as God sees her

whatever it is
I want to sit
at her kitchen table
forever