A bakelite timer
forged
like a flocked hen
surveys the gas range
in this pre-war kitchen.
A mahogany biddy
that clucks off seconds;
fat bantam
of the dinner hour.
Our broody Buckeye
orbits,
a bell suspended
in her belly.
See her
pea comb, rosy
as the errant pearl
of blood
that punctuates an egg.
Just lovely like comfort foods, love the word choices, I want to be in that kitchen!