when the sweet potato casserole works
and David goes for third helpings
or the salad tastes particularly tasty
even though it’s really the dressing
but everyone eats more
especially the bread I’ve kneaded
until my palms can’t push any longer
I forget how much I hate to cook
but sometimes I remember when
the table is set, the silver is out, the folks
gather to pour wine and tell stories
then I remember the goodness of the gathering