Sunbeam

In four days haiku, the gorgeous and precocious kitty, turns a lovely 11.  He is napping upon a sunbeam.  I am thinking of soup because cooking makes a poem happen.  And cooking, as walking, is a celebration.  Is a poem.

Are longer poems easier on an audience?

Do short poems scare an audience? Difficult to settle in and listen without expectation of grasping whole cloth, the first time.

Of course, there’s no consensus on what constitutes a longer poem. For me, 28 lines.



Regarding food, I consider soup as long. Ceviche as short-ish.

What is the correspondence between blogging and this much rain?

Water-saturated San Francisco is visibly greening. Slant of rain on window -- eyebrows, diacritical marks. Each room feels like a library. A consequence of rain is fragrance.


Make soup, of course. Rough-cut vegetables. Plenty of garlic. Fistfuls of spinach added just before serving. Bowlfuls. Crusty bread. Company. Conversation not about weather. Perhaps, poetry. Yes, poetry.