Exquisite

My new morning tea bar with an exquisite view.  Where only loose-leaf tea is brewed.  Where pen & glasses are full of reflection.  Just what pages love to absorb. Of course, plates love to reflect food's flavors & colors.  Textures, too. Poems are no different. They love an exquisite view and a cup of freshly brewed loose-leaf tea.  And the open road of pages.  Sun or moon a plus.

Closed by noon

Been waiting many, many days for her to open.  I thought the full moon might be the key.  Perhaps, the moon & the sparse rain today (last night?) knew the combination by heart.  Now, she's closed. Not withered.  So perhaps tonight again she unfolds. I'm reminded of poems being read to an audience and how it is an opening. An unfolding.  A good meal accomplishes the same as it opens up conversation.  

Murals

Another reason to walk to my local library.   This vibrant & beautiful mural (La Flor de La Vida) sponored by the freetrade clothing shop, The Frida's Closet (25th above Bartlett).  Painted this year by Twin Walks Mural Company (Marina Perez-Wong & Elaine Chu).  Two things I didn't know.  1. The dalhia is the national flower of Mexico (also the official San Francisco city flower). 2. Chu's cat is named Drew. Libraries, art, walking, cooking are inseparable. What's for dinner?  Roasted pumpkin with feta, black olives, roasted tomatoes, and string beans. La vida is sweet. And which book borrowed?  Kay Ryan's latest, Erratic Facts. Yup, life is sweet & savory.  

Wise

Sage
pineapple.  Smitten by hummingbirds & words pink.
Why don't I cook much with sage?
Why don't I eat much pineapple?
Why don't I wear much pink?
I have never written a word in pink ink.
Ah! but this pineapple sage may change all that behavior.

Strawberries in the sky

Oh really!  Well, Arbutus unedo -- strawberry tree.  In the manzanita family.  White flowers, bumpy red and yellow fruit.  It is said the fruit is edible, though an unusual texture. I've never reached high enough to try a taste. A nectar source for the California Dogface butterfly & the Monarch, too.

DREAMS ARE The SOURCE Of NECTAR

Her dream lifted her to where the sky is full of strawberries.  Tasting just one, she awoke as a Monarch butterfly.

Friends

Basil & friends past & present.  Last year's pomegranate -- aged & wise --with two of the season's persimmons.  What's not to love.

What does this have to do with words?  I'm remembering rollerskating on sidewalks.  The special feel of flying over a patch of slate.  The marvelous lines the wheels etched.  Although I didn't have a word for it, now I'd say
calligraphy across slate.

Are there any patches of slate on sidewalks these days?

Borlotti

Many things are two-named.  Borlotti are also called cranberry beans.  Shell them & be delighted by their quietly speckled white flesh. Meaty & delicious.  Just like you wish every poem put in your mouth.

When you cook them, keep their color in your memory.  They cook into a nondescript beige, though the taste is anything but nondescript.

Isn't every bean a petite poem waiting to be tasted?