There is a man who places
linen and silverware on tables.
He places linen and silverware
on tables. That is what he does
where people sit and eat.
They spoil the linen and soil
the silverware and they leave.
This man removes once
crisp linen and not too long
ago spotless silverware and
once again places immaculate
linen and gleaming silverware
upon tables for people once
again to do what they do
all day long and into the night.
He insists the linen be right
side up. The factory label
must not show. There is right
and wrong for even linen and
knives and forks and spoons
must be exact a certain distance
from the table edge. He uses
his first and middle finger side
by side to measure the distance
and napkins, but of course,
he folds to pyramids just so.
If no one sits where he has
worked he whisks his work
away despite his eye for
perfection, because this man
is of God. This man creates
the world with meticulous care
and leaves what he has done
for others though they take
for granted everything he
does. He means it so. He
enjoys the people. They
come to destroy his work.
He forgives them. He means
it so. He asks no recognition.
Waiters and waitresses
receive their tips. Cooks make
more money, but this man
presents all in anonymity
and cleans up afterward.
Without him, dining is
sheer barbarism. He provides
discipline and elegance which,
if only the world would
imitate, would make this place
the finest restaurant in town.
♥