- Abigail Wilson
The universe in a single okra
Who do I thank when I eat an okra?
I thank the plant which birthed it, and my body which tended and welcomed each leaf and flower. I thank the soil for holding its roots, and the sky for an invitation to grow. I thank the sun in its shining. I thank the man who made the pan, and the woman who sold the seeds, and the unknowable stranger who pried each seed from the husk of a single grandmother okra.
I thank the rain and the roads, and whichever cow dreamed up this delectable butter. And if I go on long enough, I end up thanking all of existence - without which I could not relish such bliss of edible vegetable.