Never fear eating on your own
because you aren’t
alone in your eating.
The farmer’s hands which have
teased milk from cow’s teat
hold yours as you
savour cheese. And the hoe to the row
of potatoes is a fork now, patterning the mashed moat
of gravy – afloat with peas – pilgrimming from pod to pot to palate, each pea
caressed by fingers whose prints bear witness
to careful culling. No, you are
not on your own – never alone – with
food, which only gives itself up
because another has given herself over to it:
- the farmer firmly by your side
- the gardener grounded in each root vegetable
- the vintner poured out in the wine’s glow.
A host in light delights in your satisfaction, in your being
fed, your being bread for the world.