Psalm of the Kitchen

Let the window open wide to welcome
The sun and the love of God that
Penetrates every shadow.
Let the floor bear up our feet as they dance.
Let the earthy onion, with all its tears and ours,
Praise the Lord!

Praise rises mingling the sharpness of the garlic
With the keenness of the knives that cut it.
Praise flows shushing out of our
Very own fountain that never runs dry
Except when they're fixing the plumbing.
Praise riots out in the cackles of hot oil.
Even the tone-deaf kettle sings
And its notes are found acceptable.

All you objects in the kitchen,
Let your voices, colors, and smells
Cry out in all their magical ordinariness
So that we might join you in the chorus:
Praise the Lord!