Sun Catcher ...

Delia was my grandmother. I can still see her in that cold kitchen, the old wood-burning stove starting to throw out some heat, the skillet in place, waiting for warmth, a dab of oleo, an egg.

The kitchen faced west, but there was a side window that caught a bit of the morning sun. That's where the "film of frost gathered the gold ... poured it softly, like warm milk ... "

Of course, our memories become polished with much handling ... they take on a sheen far beyond that of the original event, and that has happened with this mental picture I still carry with me.

Oh, how I treasure it. The poem was originally published in A New Song:

Sun Catcher

A film of frost

gathered the gold

of morning sun

on the window,

poured it softly,

like warm milk,

into the kitchen

where Delia

stood working,

embracing her

with a radiance

like the words

of her prayer

being whispered

to the music

of preparations

for another day.

© 1998

Afterthoughts ... in response to your comments:

Thank you, Stormie, thank you!

***

Today's word: sheen