Exotic: Joyful Stewing

Watching the icy rain
Pelt down again and again,
Strange weather,
Hardly winter at all,

Then turning away,
Back towards the chill inside,
Running low on fuel,
Lethargy has set in,

Reluctant to move
And yet, no trouble
Getting supper going,
Hot stew feels good,

Even when it’s reheated,
Warming the body
And cheering the heart
From the inside out;

So many years it took,
To learn how to cook
So well
Or, at least, to suit me,

Wondering for how much longer
I’ll get to do it
And whether I’ll miss it
When I can’t,

For sometimes it’s a chore
But then I remind myself
How it’s actually
A privilege

And this arouses joy,
Which goes into the pot
Along with the vegetables
That I have chopped.