Making Grits on a Sunday – a poem by Robin Dake

Making Grits on a Sunday

Two cups of water
One and a quarter cup of milk.
Add the grits slowly, stirring.
Feel the liquid begin to thicken,
Individual grains absorbing the water and milk.

Pre-pandemic, I cooked to eat.
Now I seem to cook to cook.
Recreating the ordinary comfort food 
I have been soothed by.
I follow an urge to give it
To the sleeping people in my home.

Add the butter.
Watch it seem to sigh as it leans into the warmth,
Contributing its own good to the concoction.
Next the cheese that then assimilates like the butter,
Melting in the melting pot.

I too sigh as I lean over the hot pot,
Slowly stirring, comforting myself
With an offering that feels holy.

Robin Dake is a mother, daughter, friend, writer, and photographer. She has spent her career working as a journalist or non-profit manager while writing essays and poems on the side. Her work has appeared in This I Believe radio program and in Trailway News magazine She lives in N.E. Georgia with two hoodlum cats and one patient dog.  

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