How To Do The Impossible

Let your bare feet be a prayer--
the patter of sole against linoleum,
even the little grit of elderly crums.
Let the jet of water in the silver sink be a prayer,
 and the warm white suds rising.
Let extracting hair strands
from the dish cloth mesh be a prayer,
and the milk ring scrubbed
from the bottom of the glass.
Let each long last fork and knife,
gathered from the dregs, be a prayer,
and the everlasting pans.
Let your prune fingers pray
across counter tops, soothing
away chaos for this one moment.