Monday, October 21, 2013

Farm Kitchen At Night

Farm Kitchen at Night

The kettle sings a low contented tune,
The dog snores in her sleep behind the stove.
There is a mingled odor in the air
Of apple pie and cinnamon and clove.

Beyond the pantry door I catch a glimpse
Of shiny milk pans on a narrow shelf,
A row of plates - the old brown cookie crock;
A brimming water pail all by itself,
A little bracket lamp beside the door,
Makes a small halo on the kitchen floor.

An old grey cat is sleeping on a chair,
Paws folded in below her snowy chest,
She looks the picture of contented peace,
Like an old lady waiting for a guest,
Her eyes blink softly as if half awake,
Pale green like water in a mountain lake.

The kitchen has a fragrance of its own,
Of porridge simmering in a blue pot,
Of kindling wood drying beneath the stove,
And red coals glowing beautifu and hot,
There is a sense of joy and comfort there,
In the old stove and cushioned rocking chair.

A feel of home and peace and fireglow,
That lovely modern kitchens do not know.

- Edna Jaques

(photo from Saskatchewan: A Pictorial History, Edited by D.H. Bocking)