My Frying Pan
by Timothy Reed
Rather than babbling bygone tropes
being fast-held by aged convention,
I’ll just come out and say it:
Home is where my frying pan is,
the locus of daily bread.
As I cut, chop, simmer, and sauté sense
out of the daily aches and pains.
On busy days, it may as well be a symphony,
a saga, or a Sistine Chapel -
each flip of meat and veggies an ode to pointillism
as I realize that life is always a mosaic
(and home too, for that matter)
of moments, good and bad,
shared food, a table full
and you don’t have to like it all.
No comments:
Post a Comment