For the tastes of summer I give thanks:
for swollen red tomatoes that explode their wonder into my mouth,
for berries and peaches, pears and apples,
and all the fruits of the harvest orchards and berry patches,
I clap my hands with glee like a child.
For color and textures in such wild variety
that they make a circus of the summer table,
and make every meal a glorious celebration,
I thank You.
For pies and cobblers, salads and compotes,
for all the ordinary creativity this bounty inspires,
I thank You.
For recipes passed down that tie our tasting parties
to all the generations who have gone before
and join the hands in my kitchen to the hands
in the kitchens of Michigan and Indiana,
Missouri and Tennessee,
Italy and Germany,
Ireland and England,
I thank You.
I dance my turn in the jig or reel or clog or hoedown
around our well-worn table.
