There Should be a Word
By Susan Plett
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 a place
at her kitchen table
