In this best room, only a kitchen,
touch cloth—in towels—touch
metal stove, wood cupboards.
Look down the breadboard: scars
time never needs to overcome.
The easy refrigerator door closes like this:
"Forgive." Inside, a light goes to sleep
comfortably, friend of lettuce, admired
by the eggs; and the meditative motor
suggests winter, then pauses all night.
Room that gives life, alone with independent
spices content just to be in their jars:
while we live may your way be ours.
May we never forget your order, the various
world brought by recipes to anyone's taste—
The work of many made into one home.
"Good Room" by William Stafford, from An Oregon Message: Poems (Perennial Library, 1987). Text as posted on the website of Washburn University in the poet's home state of Kansas.
Art credit: Untitled image by unknown photographer.