I have set the table
with the milk of a pure goat
that grazes only in Alp pastures.
I have primed the Prairie pump
then poured cool water
into ice-packed tumblers.
My knuckles are stiff
from kneading dough
and my fingertips blistered
from baking over hot coals.
I have ironed my finest linen
and plucked wild roses
from their thorns
to decorate where you sit grumbling
without giving thanks
yet somehow this amuses me.

©--Christina Cowling