Beyond compare

Exactly what is the comparison in "beyond the beyond".  For instance, what is riper than ripe? Take in these ceramic tomatoes from Yountville.  Huge, more colorful than their namesakes.  As they say in that small state with sexy curves (NJ, of course), never, never slight the tomato.  And who would you believe:  the one who says the poem is in the stem or she who says the poem is all flesh?

You can edit only what you see

Today, she will go for a walk and in her minds's eye see those tulips on the side table waiting for her return. She wants you to know about tulips.  Those mirrors into the kindest places within us.  Grasp the tulip's center, and you will gasp in awe.  As her grandmother reminded her, "To see is to edit.  And remember:  eat your greens; stay with the magic of the spiral."  Grandmother was one wise, nasty woman.  And tulips are sexy beyond compare.

When was the last time you shared an Opal?

She will.  Share.  But first she buys.  To be precise, to be scientific (and isn't that at the core of food?) -- UEB32642.  The Opal apple.  The melding of a Golden Delicious with Topaz.  Note the russeting around the stem.  She's thinking of all her friends with beautiful aging hands & faces. She slices an Opal.  This fruit, unlike others, unlike what the mirror says, will not brown.  Will not show its age.  The flowers, too, etched in glass -- remain untouched.  Unlike the poems written three decades ago, she now is re-reading, retouching.  At what age, are words ripe for the picking?

The next poem

is in the hands of the folks we love

in the food shared

Canvas

No doubt about it, sky is the communal canvas.  And yesterday's rainbow, today's communal promise.  Let us be creative.  Bend when necessary; don't snap.  And always spiral up for the next meal, the next poem.

From the thread of red

Coral maples --the labels says.
So like a meal, a poem, a canvas -- light, color.  Space. Spoon and pen celebrate.

Red glasses

What if every time she puts on her red glasses with the multi-colored sides, she invites a prose poem to splash across the page?  Will the spoon take offense?