The Great Feast

the great feast

When I wake in the morning and go into the kitchen to make my tea, there are such lovely aromas. Annie was baking last night when I went off to bed and those lovely scents of home-baking linger. Scent is a powerful evoker of memory. Christmas time and winter tide is full of these. I have lived six decades and spent Christmas in three countries. As a child I was a stickler for tradition, but time, travel and new cultures have made me adaptable. Yet the spirit in those traditions first encountered in childhood linger in spirit. The last conversation I had with my mother, who died early in the New Year, was my gratitude for the wonderful, magical Christmases she had made. We both cried. As an adult I know she had done that on a tight budget. But it felt plentiful and abundant because each gift was so carefully chosen to match some unspoken wish.

Today’s Poetry Daily remembers.

The Great Feast

Here’s to us!
Time to revel in our peace
and plenty,
the grace of gathering round
so many.
Here’s to our company!
Those we love
right here and now, and also
absent friends and family.
They feast, too.

So raise a glass, make a toast.
To memory
of those first ever feasts, those
who decked the halls and trimmed trees,
filled stockings
while the house was all abed.
Delicious
food to share, cinnamon
spiced the house and home, made all
bright with lights,
with love of us, me and you,
love of all
who come through the opened door.

Here’s to us!
Here’s to them!
May we all gather around,
feast once more.
At wintertide, we draw close,
feast once more
in light
and
love.

Copyright © Bee Smith 2018


The Great Feast
The Great Feast in Times Past
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