Monday, April 29, 2019
The hope to seed and the hope to fruit don't cancel each other out. Sunflower & tomato: a fetching combo. Think of cherry tomatoes & mozzarella & basil & olive oil & balsamic served on a platter with design of giant sunflower. Oh, yes, sprinkle some sunflower seeds on the top. Have you considered that each recipe is in fact a poem waiting to be made. Waiting to be eaten.
Friday, April 26, 2019
At least two sides put together. Not quite the daisy. More like garlic chives left to their joyous
happening. Great on eggs, in salads, on goat cheese. Limitations are limited. Not like the alphabet and the composite of a new petite poem. And yes, these blooms, edible as is every word composed.
Thursday, April 25, 2019
Tuesday, April 23, 2019
Roasted multi-colored potatoes & zucchini with red onions are the bed. And why can't eggs be pillows? Sun-filled. Decorated with French tarragon, of course. On a square plate of a Paris icon. Imagine this, breakfast dwarfs the Eiffel Tower. I'm rethinking the eggs as petite poems, too.(Thanks, Kim).
Saturday, April 20, 2019
Although you might not suspect the direction it will take. Nor what it gathers. How it might reflect more of its journey than you imagined. Is this a metaphor for friendship & the sharing of food? Is this the mouth & ears ready to name a poem? And to edit? Why not name it yourself.
Friday, April 19, 2019
Thursday, April 18, 2019
Wednesday, April 17, 2019
Tuesday, April 16, 2019
Indeed, supreme. Attention always increases attention.
Like eating the perfect salad and knowing in the pulling together the salad will be the sum of its perfect parts -- perfectly. Poems haven't quite caught on to a salad's ability; however, attention is required for salad making, poem making, and kitty loving. P.S. This supreme meditator is aptly named Sweetie.
Monday, April 15, 2019
Each cluster on the bark of this redbud is a spot worthy of lingering of saying "wow." Like in the kitchen when alchemy's mayhem happens. As when a few words on a page coalesce to make a dandy, petite poem.
Friday, April 12, 2019
A trio of hope. Spring is the fullest palette for hope. Perhaps, this year the Meyers lemon will produce fruit. Maybe not. By the way, what do an empty notebook and a favorite wooden spoon have in common? Promises served-up.
Thursday, April 4, 2019
for poets, poetry and those who love to listen. Gone but always, remembered like the taste of Spring asparagus. Like a favorite line of poetry recalled, recited. On the fourth day of National Poetry Month & with gratitude to Nancy Keane.