context: this is a poem i drafted a long time ago, for the secular solstice crowd
my family was raised catholic
i still find saying grace before meals to be homely and comforting
and i seem to recall some pop-science that "rituals before meals make them taste better"
... that just feels like the kind of finding that doesn't replicate, but it is a funny thing to say when gathering with other bay-area-rationalists for a meal
I thank the million hands
in a thousand places
who fund, design, craft, and ply the tools
that fix fertilizer from the air,
that seed and harvest the earth,
that ship food across the water,
that keep it cold as ice,
that make heat from fire,
and that do everything else,
all that we need for this meal today.