At the Community Table, Trinity Lutheran Church, Neenah, WI
by Fredric Hildebrand
Saturday morning and the smells
of baking bread and pasta drift
up from the basement social hall.
A decorated sandwich board
welcomes all to this free meal.
On the walls, children’s artwork,
schedules of holiday events.
At the back of the room, an old
piano below a carved wood crucifix.
I unfold metal chairs. We place lilies
on each table, arrange the buffet
of lasagna, bread, salad, fruit cups,
nutrition bars. Plastic cups, pitchers
of milk, water. A dispenser of coffee.
Guests arrive in housecoats, scrubs,
service uniforms. One wears a suit
and tie. Some wheelchairs. An older
man with tattoos struggles with his
walker. A young girl clings to a worn
stuffed rabbit. Tentative voices murmur
greetings. Soon all forty seats are filled.
After a prayer, a single line forms.
We serve them. One helping of each
dish, seconds if there is extra food.
There is none today. The diners eat
with hushed voices, not looking around.
Afterward, gentle smiles, handshakes,
soft Thank-Yous. The girl wishes me
Happy Easter.
Gratitude. Humility. Examples for my
pale self, far from the person I should be.
of baking bread and pasta drift
up from the basement social hall.
A decorated sandwich board
welcomes all to this free meal.
On the walls, children’s artwork,
schedules of holiday events.
At the back of the room, an old
piano below a carved wood crucifix.
I unfold metal chairs. We place lilies
on each table, arrange the buffet
of lasagna, bread, salad, fruit cups,
nutrition bars. Plastic cups, pitchers
of milk, water. A dispenser of coffee.
Guests arrive in housecoats, scrubs,
service uniforms. One wears a suit
and tie. Some wheelchairs. An older
man with tattoos struggles with his
walker. A young girl clings to a worn
stuffed rabbit. Tentative voices murmur
greetings. Soon all forty seats are filled.
After a prayer, a single line forms.
We serve them. One helping of each
dish, seconds if there is extra food.
There is none today. The diners eat
with hushed voices, not looking around.
Afterward, gentle smiles, handshakes,
soft Thank-Yous. The girl wishes me
Happy Easter.
Gratitude. Humility. Examples for my
pale self, far from the person I should be.
Fredric Hildebrand is a physician living in Neenah, WI. He is the author of two poetry chapbooks, "Northern Portrait" (Kelsay Books, 2020) and "A Glint of Light" (Finishing Line Press, 2020). His recent poetry has appeared in The MacGuffin and Sky Island Journal. When not writing or reading, he plays acoustic folk guitar and explores the Northwoods with his wife and two Labrador retrievers.