Ode to a Kitchen Table

I've a desk in my library and one in my bedroom, but most of my writing is done at the kitchen table. Putting away my manuscript earlier today, I was shocked to realize that it was the end of October and already the chickadees are back scratching for food. I used to think the birds were the only reason I wrote at the kitchen table - but since they are just now returning it occurred to me that there may be another reason I find the kitchen table my favorite place to write. Hence this hastily written but heartfelt ode to my kitchen table.

I sing your praises worn wood of old,

long-stripped mahogany,

now honey-gold,

once youthful as the man and bride

who brought you home

to be their pride -

a place where family gathered 'round,

to share a meal

midst happy sounds

of clattering dishes 
'n baby coos,

'n the man 'n bride

whispering

I love you.

Long gone.

The man. 

The woman.

The babies grown,

all with families of their own.

But the one who sits 

with pad and pen -

hears their music yet again;

'n though scratched and peeling,

the table rejoices

at the echo of familiar voices -

a man, a woman, a child too -

their gentle, lingering 

I love you -

all written into books and songs

at the kitchen table

where she belongs.

my beloved kitchen table (all dressed up for a birthday party)!