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There’s a lot more to life than lunch.
There’s poetry, for example.
I know this is true, though you couldn’t prove it
by my actions.
On any given day, lunch is the nearest I get
to poetry.
Thoughts of lunch fill my quiet moments:
What’s on tap?
What leftovers or perishables demand
to be eaten before rot sets in?
Beyond all that, what calls to me?
What do I want to cook?
Even more important, what do I want to eat?
Toast for breakfast means
no bread for lunch---not even
the sourdough French stick I made on the weekend.
A Bowl, perhaps.
Cooked mixed grains at the bottom,
with strata of chickpeas, cherry tomatoes,
diced watermelon radish, parsley, feta, cilantro.
Jammy hard-boiled egg halved on top.
A dressing of homemade mayo lightened with
yogurt and lemon juice.
Is it not a poem, this bowl?
Bon appetit!
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
ListenandLive: http://www.listenandlive.com/
Audible.Ca: go to https://www.audible.ca and search for Ann Tudor
Audible.Com: go to https://www.audible.com and search for Ann Tudor
