Nourishment

Barefoot feet dangling above tile floors,
black and white, not quite a checkerboard,
frizzy ringlets and innocent fingers.

Abba. Abba is in the kitchen,
elegant clank, clank, clack
whispered hope into six year-old ears.

Round eyes wider than expectation,
a graceful pat, tat, tat
stirs a burning hunger.

Abba. Abba brings chicken noodle soup.
No, alphabet soup.
“Be careful, beloved. It’s hot.”

White, a pearly and distracting white
smiling at a trusting heart.
“Eat, child. You are not well.”

A glance down at the soup,
The acacia table,
The-

Abba! Abba is spelling.
The letters, letters in the soup…
P-e-a-c-e, peace.