Archive
03/13/12 - (2)
This Kitchen Table
Could any breakfast taste more sweetly-tartly succulent Than the raspberries and blueberries I've put in separate bowls, atop my cabin's kitchen table,
This comforting, embracing place, space, stage, Where my body and mind convene, to nourish each other, Not only by eating but apportioning, to my notebook,
Everything imaginable as well as inconceivable, The speakable and the ineffable, Drawn from the wisdom of any metaphor's moment?
This morning, the first three fingers of my right hand, Having penned who I am, across another page in my life, Grab two, three, five berries, at a time,
And place them between my lips, for me to savor, Before I chew them, swallow their pulpy lusciousness — The words of a poem whose spirit I feed as it feeds my soul.
03/13/12 - (2)
|
|||
|
|||
