You’re underpaid.
Overworked.
Double shifts for cash
under the table.
Living with too many people.
But, they’re family.
The space is small.
The landlord only speaks rent.
poem
Could it be the magnolia trees that have recently unfurl its beauty? Perhaps its the exciting anticipation of the arrival of a “new” cookbook, The Taste of Country Cooking, originally published in 1976 by Edna Lewis. This play, Fences, by August Wilson brings nostalgic feelings for those Southern dishes. Remember those big breakfasts made in an instant from scratch? Those giant buttery biscuits. A trip down 95 South is in the plans. For old time sake, can we use a real map instead of MapQuest? Pack a picnic basket. Seal mason jars of pickled vegetables. Please hold the salt on the stinky and sweet cantaloupe. As the imagination runs wild with memories of running barefoot through fresh grass. And, a car whizzes by and a siren wails to wake up into a reality of the pavement to walk on toward hopeful progress. The memory of taste. Oh, the taste, can’t take that dream away. A dish of dreams shall come true strolling down southern lane. Read more
It was a winter,
but the Sage survived.
The perennial favorite,
Rosemary, lost its color,
Weather reports say
more snow and cold days this week.
Lemon Balm leaves the dirt, anyway.
Life returns to green,
again.
It would be an careless decision
to spend the year’s first warm weekend in a kitchen.
The ground is still spotty brown and green.
Yellow forsythia and crocuses
announce the appending arrival of Spring.
Magnolias trees hold green pods of blossoms
screaming warmer days are finally here.
Under the Cherry Moon,
Prince once crooned,
“Sometimes it Snows in April.”
Poetry written on a rainy day.
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