As National Poetry Month winds down

haiku, too, takes a snooze upon some writing about a blessed memory.  Only later the question arises, What's for dinner?

The mountain sees itself for the first time

and admires its reflection.  When a salad looks at itself, what does it see?  Which ingredient does it recognize first?  Is it true, poems are partial to prepositions & the particulars of gender?

Eyes & ears

All that's necessary to take in the day.  A conversation.  Eavesdropping, of course.  An underbelly of spinach & a memory of raspberries.  See & hear and words will follow.  And if this is not in an act of eavesdropping, well, you'll find a poem by noon.

The surreal is palpable

yet dreamlike.  It bends to the desires of water.  And memory.  Ask any fish.  Ask any poem.

And a dog in the background

doesn't disrupt or derail the majestic beauty of these bearded irises.  Their composure makes them immune to any barking disturbance.  Fragile & strong commingled.  A perfect balance like the perfectly crafted martini.  Vodka, of course.  With a twist.  Soon it will be a good friend's birthday
with poems aplenty & gestures to grow on.  Perhaps, Goldfish the hue of pollen.  

Carrots have always been stars in any dish

Especially when multi-color carrots are given center stage.  You never forget the first time you cut into a purple carrot.  Rewarded again by color.  A dish of sautéed multi-colored chopped carrots with walnuts, basil, garlic, black pepper, olive oil & the slightest drizzle of Balsamic vinegar.  Sight for sore eyes.  May all poems see into themselves this vibrantly.

Sky's perspective

and the yucca's four directions.  That sums it up.  Lunch will be outside.  Perhaps a poem will be written -- a petite poem depending upon the hour.  

Sap is the preferred paint of trees

Magical, this circling.  Mother nature arising kinetically.  Wish I could say that for each line of poetry I've written.  Maybe, I'm using the wrong kind of ink?  What can I put in today's salad to pay homage to the quiet rose & that that hearty yellow?  To be determined -- soon.

In shadow. In sunlight.

It isn't usually thought that shadow is as downright cheerful as sunlight.  But look at these blooms.   In light and in shadow they optimistically glow.  Carrots are known to brighten a kitchen.  Lemons, too.  Certain words, too, will brighten or dim a poem.  Color, something you can't quite grasp but it surrounds us -- inside & out.  

No height restrictions to beauty

25 feet but who's counting?  Yucca treculeana.  Showy, over-the-top gorgeous.  Reminds me of a salad that becomes bountiful by the use of leftovers.  Like inserting a line of an existing poem into a new one. Yup, no height restrictions to beauty and beauty is in the leftovers.  And here's the phrase from that poem, steadfast fragility.

A lilac reflects on National Poetry Month

April can and can't be the cruelest month but without question, April is National Poetry Month.  Like beauty, words are a reflection and they know how to sail. Words also absorb light.  Continuing in the purple vein (as in prose), consider the eggplant & how deliciously it absorbs olive oil & crafts a perfect sentence with tomatoes & basil & garlic & feta & walnuts.

Memory is precise as liquid

and sees straight-away into rocks.  While trees may have spores, rocks like potatoes have eyes. So the next time you dream, put on your rock-eyes; relax and let memory wash over you. Don't be surprised when you encounter an old woman with the shape & scent of rosemary.  Dreams are like this.  So are poems both in the writing, editing & reading.  So is making a meal for people you love.
Grab some rosemary, the potatoes await.  Your friends are hungry.  Yup.