Mornings Upon Granny's Kitchen Counter

Mornings Upon Granny's Kitchen Counter           October 12, 2013

T'was such a young lad; t'was so long ago,

And yet, it appears just like yesterday, tho',

When I sat upon my Granny's kitchen counter,
A woman, aged three score, but a soulful gold:
A tower of strength to me even at five feet eight,
And I, but a wee tot, gazing 'pon her fiery eyes

As she would lift me towards her kitchen's skies
To coronate me unto her coy throne, 

A surface, white, as the snow embodies Purity.

O'! How I was such an impressionable lad

Fascinated by her country colloquial virtues; and
Imbued within the Southern comforts, the ambiance of
Her native mile-high, the ancient Carolinian mounts,

Embodying the yeoman ethos, resolve; and

A love cultivat'd from only the richest salts

Our Lord Thy God embedd'd within His Earth!

And Granny fried that bacon so crisp,

Stirr'd homemade gravy in her black iron skillet;

Her biscuits made from scratch, so billow'd like clouds,
The dough rose amid my fancy in a caring heat,
Bak'd golden, a taste chewy with a crunch amid

Piety's dichotomy of Pleasure's textures.

Yet the greatest ingredient of all was her love,

A quality, tho' she be in the denouement of her years,

Shall never fade at twilight of a day once dawn'd.

Upon dining at her triclinium in spiritum,

There was more than meets the eyes:

A congregation of our collective bloods,

The embodiment of passion amid the family, and

The likes of which are today mired in obscurity,
For libertine values prevail in society's malaise.
Granny is a trip to simpler times and their charms,
For 'pon me I am imparted with her love and wisdom,
And unto her, I bestow my eternal gratitude as her legacy.