All the Years

Being of age, I understand now    
why dearly departed elders  
  spoke so highly of home cooking—    
   
How they could taste Autumn    
in a bowl of butternut squash soup    
  harvested from their own garden—      
   
or smell a campfire    
of freshly chopped birch    
  in an oven-roasted turkey—    
   
witness sunrise dripping    
into a rising ocean glass     
  of freshly squeezed oranges—    
   
feel Love circling the home    
in aromas of breakfast casserole    
  and freshly ground coffee  
   
I have learned beyond doubt    
that solid bonds form    
  when gathering to break bread—    
   
it’s the first thing we're taught    
at birth from a heated bottle;      
  or, a Madonna's breastful of warm milk    
~