Tablecloth

What if God had a kitchen?
One of those small farmhouse kitchens
With an old oak table in the center of the room,
And we could sit there in creaking chairs
And drink our tea,
The warmth of the oven
Radiating over us, and over all our thoughts.
I would choose my words carefully,
Trying not to break the magic
Of such a moment in such a place,
And I would look at you and see all the beauty
That I had forgotten how to see,
And speak of it, maybe,
Wondering if you had changed,
Or was it just the way I looked at you,
Across that tablecloth
In that warm light.
And there would be something delicious baking in the oven
Just behind us,
And we would notice that good smell and breathe it in,
And God might say it will be done when it is done
And not before.
The baking time is six days.