One day I stopped to listen
To the sounds our kitchen makes,
And I was quite surprised to hear
That when my mom makes cakes,
It’s the whirr of her big mixer
With its beaters going ’round
That starts the kitchen concert
And fills the room with sound.
There’s the splashing of the water
And the dripping in the sink;
There’s a knife that scrapes the butter
With its clinkety, clink, clink;
There’s the rattling of the dishes
And the click of cupboard door;
There’s the whistling from a kettle
And the broom swish on the floor;
There’s the rhythm of Mom’s footsteps
And the tune she always sings—
Our kitchen’s full of many sounds
From all these happy things.

[illustration] Illustrated by Judy Capener