Friday, October 14, 2011

September Soup: For Lydia

Another autumn day
of perfect beauty,
Perfect light.
Clouds forming
On the mountains,
Crows noisy
In the cottonwoods
Outside the kitchen window
Where I am chopping celery
Peeling onions,
Making soup.
All day long
My hands will smell of
Garlic, onions, tumeric,
Marjoram and sage
I gathered from the pots
Behind the house.

Salting the broth
With tears I cannot stop,
I think of you,
Your animals,
Gardens, birds.
How you loved to cook,
To share the Magpie bounty
With friends and
Passing strangers.

All that I can do
Is offer this as prayer:
Last small tomatoes
Waiting to be picked,
Yellow leaves, the steaming soup,
Flickers calling from the trees
In fields beyond the wall.
Tears, and memory.
Autumn light.
Dear heart, you will be missed.

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