Beth Camp Historical Fiction

Wednesday, April 20, 2022

Poem a Day 20: Waiting for Summer

My fridge is half-full
of frozen food I don't want to eat.
Maybe there's a revolution,
or a sense of revulsion,
for I'd rather go out to the garden,
pretend it's late summer, and pluck
fresh leaves from lettuce,
a radish or three, two tomatoes
blush red from the sun, and
a green onion, make that two,
their stalks just high enough to add spice.
Back inside, the fridge holds promise
this time. I'll add green olives,
a sprig of parsley,
feta cheese chunks or gorgonzola,
what richness. Now mix with vinagrette,
home-made, a bit of artisan bread on the side,
liberally spread with butter, and
that sense of peace returns.

Image by MetsikGarden from Pixabay

Today’s prompt from Maureen Thorson, the host of NaPoWriMo asks us to write a poem that anthropomorphizes a kind of food. Maureen says: "It could be a favorite food of yours, or maybe one you feel conflicted about. I feel conflicted about Black Forest Cake, for example. It always looks so pretty in a bakery window, and I want to like the combination of cherries and chocolate . . . but I don’t. But how does the cake feel about it?"  

Ah, but what about foods you don't like -- or can't easily have just now?

1 comment:

  1. Oh you made my mouth water for tomatoes right off the vine, and new potatoes, so creamy and delicious. (and I'm NOT even hungry!) AND lemon cucumbes, my favorite, so crisp and juicy and delicious with tomatoes. My happy place? Sitting in the garden with a salt shaker, eating tomatoes off the vine! Now that I'm a grown up I take them inside and wash them, but I will still eat cherry tomatoes after dusting them off on my jeans. It's heaven!