There is a Poem

There is a poem somewhere
(or perhaps a bit of prose,
a speech, a still, a motion picture,
or just a wonderful gesture)
but almost certainly a poem
that expresses it with certainty.

Someone is aware, someone knows
but his/her conception
of the stance of a particular day
is weird,
not my own
and her/his satisfaction
(let me repeat
myself a thousand times)
is not nearly mine
though I know or almost understand
that he/she has reason to be satisfied.

A catfish dinner is not ready until it is properly fried
by the person standing at the stove.
That is a true heart poem.