A Blessing on the Food

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A Blessing on the Food
Fork poised above my bowl of Costco
perfection-in-a-bag kale salad,
I fold my arms and bow my head and stare—
when lo, my eyes themselves turn instruments of prayer:
Lord, the Zion of colors I’m please-blessing!
Mint-white center of brussels sprouts
cross-sectioned, verdant at the crown;
dark, undulating canopy of kale
on tough pale stalks my grateful teeth strip clean.
Cool spears whittled from cores of broccoli trunks,
angelic cabbage wings, a scattering
of solemnly olive pumpkin seeds,
and governing all, the burgundy
chickory flakes and cranberries.
A sociality greater than the sum
of its ingredients, eternal glory
bound in speckled pearlescent
fellowship of poppyseed dressing.
How can I fail to praise these hues, the shades
of hands that brought them in communion here?
The hands that pick, slice, cut, and fix
the tools that pick, slice, cut; those hands
that set and move and set irrigation lines,
that wrench and clean the machinery
and clench and wring at the heavens
over weather, workers, buyers, insects, fate—
for this glad bowl of gathering, may they be
forever nourished and strengthened, Lord:
the hands that have prepared it.