The mouth, the ear understands failure. Mentions it and moves along. Dwelling on the less-than never invites abundance.
And what is writing, what is a fine meal if not abundances. Rainbow chard being an extravagance.
A few days ago, I roasted kale. Didn't work. Neither did the lines of poetry that morning. Discarded, both. Looking forward to what the next remodel of leftovers will issue.