Poetry Sunday

Yesterday, Cartoon Saturday looked at the lighter side of elections. Today, Poetry Sunday turns to a reflection on things we could think about instead of the political darkness ...

Poem with an Embedded Line by Susan Cohen

by Barbara Crooker

When the evening newscast leads to despair,

when my Facebook feed raises my blood pressure,

when I can't listen to NPR anymore,

I turn to the sky, blooming like chicory,

its dearth of clouds, its vast blue endlessness.

The trees are turning copper, gold, bronze,

fired by the October sun, and the bees

are going for broke, drunk on fermenting

apples. I turn to my skillet, cast iron

you can count on, glug some olive oil,

sizzle some onions, adding garlic at the end

to prevent bitterness. My husband,

that sweet man, enters the room, asks

what's for dinner, says it smells good.

He could live on garlic and onions

slowly turning to gold. The water

is boiling, so I throw in some peppers,

halved, cored, and seeded, let them bob

in the salty water until they're soft.

To the soffrito, I add ground beef, chili

powder, cumin, dried oregano, tomato sauce,

mashed cannellinis; simmer for a while.

Then I stir in more white beans, stuff the hearts

of the peppers, drape them with cheese and tuck

the pan in the oven's mouth. Let the terrible

politicians practice / their terrible politics.

At my kitchen table, all will be fed. I turn

the radio to a classical station, maybe Vivaldi.

All we have are these moments: the golden trees,

the industrious bees, the falling light. Darkness

will not overtake us.

Yes, let them. We will assemble at the kitchen table and continue on, as we must. Have a good day and enjoy the rest of your weekend. More thoughts coming.

Bilbo