Contently Cooking

My mother was in the kitchen

Speckled, vinyl floors, and smooth, white counters

Among pale-painted walls, with an oval, yellowed light.

She was busy cooking

Stepping from roasting oven to picture-covered fridge

Walking from glossy black stove to deep, porcelain sink.

She watched the heat

Steam rising from bubbling pots, waves dancing from baking pans,

The glowing red circles fading in and out on the stove.

She stayed content

Opening and closing wooden cabinets and drawers

As golden knobs blinked between light and her shadow.

I sat watching my mother

In her country kitchen, from the cushioned chair

With a high seat and long legs, pushed under the island bar.