This is an elegy for our local hardware store which burned last month. I purchased this red sorrel over a year ago from that community resource. The sorrel is thriving. The plant likes its place on the balcony. Just the right amount of sun and daily misting. I imagine it likes the company of oregano, too.
Tart and bright. A bit lemony. If you don't like the taste or sorrel, oh well, you can love the names of its kin -- rhubarb, buckwheat, wild docks, rau rum and, of course, knotweed.
Language and food are perfect spoon-sisters.
Interrogation of Space
ReplyDeleteshapes which have no special favor
yet reappear in one's dreams
one's life
I'll put them down on paper
or a slab of canvas
honoring that which reappears
as a friend might, or an enemy