Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Dear foodstuffs lying on my table,

I wonder what can be made of you, separately or together.

I wonder whether I will ever look at hard squash at five o'clock, or six o'clock, or six thirty, at the end of a long day in the middle of the semester, and say: yes.

I wonder if I will still have dried cherries in December, when I will need some for the baking.


I wonder indeed that there are still peaches in October, and that they are still so delicious.

I wonder if it is time to go to the store for more almonds.

Please, foodstuffs lying on my table, reveal your secret logic to me in the form of a menu.

I'm really, really hungry.

htms

3 comments:

Amelia said...

Dinner did not magically make itself? I am shocked!

radagast said...

A metaphor for writing poetry?

Ann said...

And if it were me, I'd say screw it and go buy myself a mashed potato bowl at KFC. Which I did last night.

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