“I watched her cooking, from my chair. She pressed her lips
Together, reached for kitchenware,
And tasted sauce from her fingertips.
“It’s ready now. Come on,” she said. “You light the candle.“
We ate, and talked, and went to bed,
And slept. It was a miracle.”
— Donald Hall, excerpt of “Summer Kitchen”, in White Apples and the Taste of Stones (via antigonick)
