Wednesday, August 29, 2012

For Those Of You

Who request I post a poem or two, now and again...

Always the Chef Poet
I always and still do
want a goat
to make my own cheese...but
it is easier to buy goats milk at the market
come with it cheese cloth and an additive
to help separate

taste the green grass on the meadow
as it bends
bowing to the clouds
pouring down in late summer weakness
over rocky landscape-- what hooves conquer

wetness for appetites rolling down dirt paths
picket fences leave dents near the elbow
moving on the breeze dies down
leaving cotton dresses to rest
around hips and thighs
matching shirt made of hemp
growing just down the road

is unbuttoned to accommodate heat rising
the sweater around her shoulders
soft angora with paisley patterns
a gift always worn with lots of thought

brings around an arm
in turn it gently nudges urgency
time for a picnic lunch in a coming meadow
in the distance a rushing brook turns
and whispers wildly

underfoot pebbles screech on a sudden twist
a surprise lingering summer's kiss
velvety texture always welcome
as chèvre is on the tongue.

This was an email to a poet foodie friend in the PNW. Turns out I kept going and it became long enough for another purpose.

How are things? Busy with me, how about you...

We did Six Flags Monday. My son and his girlfriend. We had a storm hit, BOOM! They closed the rides, but we made our own fun. Eventually they opened back up and it was non stop roller coaster heaven for my son. He hadn't been since before Anelisa passed away twelve or so years ago. I realized it was fun to remember, but I'm too old for those bumps and bangs. The ole mule just ain't what she used to be. So I'll take a goat!

Peace friends and family, we love you large chunks!

1 comment:

Pearl said...

a summer's kiss like goat cheese velvety-ness. nice. I once had a goat I milked. still the taste for the cheese was a long time coming.