Food Gratitude (A Thanksgiving Poem)

Food Gratitude (A Thanksgiving Poem)

It might as well be magic
compared to way back
when
each meal could recognize the hand
that was there where it began.

Now, the seeds sown to be
grown to feed
an increasing need,
are keeping so many full.

Let us never cease to see
the labors of nature’s
every fruit and vegetable.
And how they all seem to be
miraculously and unbelievably plentiful.

I lived on a farm once,
for about six or seven months.
An American redhead
on an African homestead.

I was a Peace Corps Volunteer,
sharing knowledge
with the children in the village
who grew millet,
and turned it into porridge
that they’d feast on for all the year.

I found new appreciation
hitchhiking two and a half hours or more
one way when
going to the nearest grocery store.

Still, our ancestors couldn’t make-believe
such amazing things.
Ninety percent
of civilization’s entire existence
used to be purely subsistence.

But I find that we forget
more often than we’d like to admit
just how food fortunate
we are.

From a can, from a jar,
from a field, from a farm,
from afar
or nearby
we are blessed with supply
in great abundance.

Our daily sustenance,
arrives without delay.
Sometimes I say grace,
most times I swallow in haste,
chewing too few times
and forgetting to taste.

But not today.
No, today I’ll wait
for a moment of reflection,
pausing to feel amazed
at these plates’ generous selections.
And before I grab that food
might I recite
some words of humble gratitude:

To nature,
its creator,
and the hard-handed cultivators,
to the servers and the chefs
and anyone else who’s left,
from my heart (and my stomach)
I offer a most sincere thanksgiving,
Amen.