In the kitchen, a place where
my mother hates. Her child
yet I love to be baking
treats, cooking meals.
During the cold winters
Its -60 below outside
We ate thankful inside surviving
by the mighty woodstove.
So mighty keeps many alive
We don’t argue about dishes, I do them
full, happy, and warm.
Without warmth, love, food, shelter
you can’t survive here.
