Ruffles

Bearded iris were among the first flowers I loved as a child.  I waited for them each Spring.  Magic.

I still think dirt & sun & rain & birds & wind & chance are magical dining partners.

Imagine a bowl of ruffled iris.  Who to invite?

And the words which form conversations.
And the words which form poems.
Some ruffled.  Some plain.  Magic!

Magic is rooted & plated.  Magic abounds.

Nestled

Words mean what they mean.

Do I really mean that?

Every container nestles that which rests in.

Green cradles these delicated white blooms.

The computer case is a nap-time home for haiku.

Aren't weeds amazing. Aren't cats alluring.

Soil & time.  And, yes, paper.  And pen.

Now, what's for dinner?

Greening

Go for a walk.  In the next 20 minutes how many shades of green did you encounter?
Now, go to the farmer's market.  Do the same.  How many greens?

Imagine yourself in the Japanese Tea Garden.  In the next 20 minutes how many poems found you?

Lunch

Don't get distracted.
Don't be confused.

Both cracker & page are edible.
And, yes, that's fresh mint from the garden.
And mango, tomato, avocado from the local market.

Time

Both the alstroemeria and the pomegranate are alive.

Everything is landscape to what it encounters.

Same with words.
Same with food on plate.

Now, think of people on the bus as a still life.

Or perhaps, a garden.

Bowls

and what they might contain.  Shape and potential.

Now imagine paper and what might be harvested therein.

And why am I fondly remembering the 2 baby quail Ann and I spotted at San Pedro Park yesterday?

I eat artichokes.
I eat mangoes.
I don't eat quail.

Birds

& shadows make for an exquisite poem

& who can deny

the stature of roasted chicken

Hands

Hands are made to bless even when you don't have the name of the otherwordly beauty before you.  The knife, the spoon bless the meal and are said to occasionally siren rain.  Let's hope.  

And which food pares well with otherwordly poems?

HATS

There are so many hats with roots in the garden and then there's a poem

SHE LOVES HATS

Wide brimmed with,

without flowers and

ribbons.  Casual 

visors and baseball

caps or most perfect

of all:  the umbrella.

Certain words

gladden her,

bumbershoot

in particular,

as she sallies forth

into the night-sky. 

(from Intentions/collaboration with Susan Gangel)

And breakfast was a showy hat of bread, goat cheese, cinammon & strawberries.  No hat was worn in the eating of.   

Nasturtium

Quite the wait until this beauty & her sister arrived.  Tonight I will crown a wedge of brie with her.
Once I wrote a poem, "Who are you when you eat a nasturtium."  Perhaps it's best that I can't find her.

Peppery color on brie in my future.

Twice

baked.
Biscotti.

Biscotti
rival bagels
and yet
so different.
One baked,
one boiled
(preferred method).
Besides,
I've never
tasted
an almond
bagel.
Don't wish
to, either.
How would
an almond
poem
sound?
Crunchy
& dipable.

Wearing

Land wears water
& water wears away
land.

& those of us in California
thirst.

make no mistake -- water is food &
water is poetry

& friends are poems as I recall the fabulous lunch of shrimp pesto salad, green bean salad, Italian red wine & an exceptional apple pie.  An unparalleled meal at the home of Linda and Jill. Lauren there too.  Where?  Croton-on-Hudson, of course.

& here's what it looks like put through Waterlogue

Croton Dam, Croton-on-Hudson, NYC.   Croton Dam is the largest hand-hewed structure in the world.