I have sharpened my knives, I have
Put on the heavy apron.
Maybe you think life is chicken soup, served
In blue willow-pattern bowls.
I have put on my boots and opened
The kitchen door and stepped out
Into the sunshine. I have crossed the lawn.
I have entered
The hen house.
Mary Oliver is suggesting the person in this poem is going out to kill her chickens for her soup. Life isn’t easy and you have to work for what you create. She has entered her work and struggles.
Farm Country