Recipe for a
Take four strong walls, thick-cut, of equal weight,
the largest space you can accommodate.
One door that opens wide and freely, but
will stand up, equally, to being slammed shut.
One window, opening on a herb bed, where
you can get fresh and necessary air.
A handful of old spoons to measure out
the small essential grains of hope and doubt.
The sharpest set of knives you can afford
that suit your hand; they’ll score the chopping board
but never mind. A splash of brandy/wine
always restores the semblance of a shine.
Some tins for Christmas and for wedding cakes -
and some that bear the dents of past mistakes.
One sturdy table where all mouths are fed
the lifetime’s kneading of the daily bread.
And finally the heat, higher and higher.
Season all this with argument and fire.
D A Prince
If you have any comments on this poem, D. A. Prince would
be pleased to hear from you.