Psalms by Lamplight

Above the bread, the china cup,
Believing, patient eyes look up.
They lift themselves unto the hills
Beyond the plant-filled window sills;
They catch, they hold the light like grace;
Light overflows the heart, the face,
And in a burst of glory, shines
On fingers tracing cherished lines:
"I shall not want." No doubt nor grief
Darkens this radiant belief.
The ceiling shelters like a wing
Where Mother and a kettle sing.

~ Geraldine Ross