i’ll speak of recipes,
autumn tang in the air, the first
yellow strands in the birch-green,
starling songs inappropriately sharp
for the time of the year;
of all small things packed
with the promise of bigness, significant
only because it’s a background
to the elephant not in the room;
i will discuss pottery, maybe, poetry,
probably puttering, stumbling over
the simplest of phrases.
i’ll hide stones in apricots,
bitter-sweet and unknown
to the casual viewer, make
tea and maybe a coffee with milk,
and dispatch veggies lightly to
contain a soup or a salad, to
flavour this world with spices;
i’ll be quiet.
and the memory of lindens
and the fragrant acacia
will have your eyes and your voice.

Screenshot for Road Through The Green Meadow

say something

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.