By Olivia Oster
Without thanks and Without wages I knead, bake, and serve Love To my own known nations My thoughts and ways are For those who eat Who neither spend money Or know their need. Surely I am called And I call “Ready” In service to the High One Who holds me steady The myrtles and mountains Delight in butter and jam Signs of abundance Passed to eager hands. They break forth in singing: He is great and always good We call upon Him Who gives our food. Pardon and mercy To the hungry seed. Joy, delight, and peace To the mothers who feed.
About the Author
Olivia Oster is a writer living on Lookout Mountain, GA, whose fiction and poetry explore the spiritual aspect of common everyday life as well as the elements of life with which she is most familiar: chronic pain, parenting, gardening, cooking, and homemaking. Olivia’s written work has appeared in The Reformed Journal, The Lake, and others. She has also published A New Grammary, a grammar book focusing on grammar formulas, and a poetry chapbook called Poetic Faith. Olivia is a teacher, wife, mother of five, and taker of long walks with her rescued dachshund-beagle and chihuahua-mini-pinscher.