Saturday, October 19, 2013

Day 222 A poem by my friend Ethel Gullette

In response to my food Plan, Ethel sent the following vegetable poem:

Cooked

I deal with quandaries
like my mother cooked vegetables,
as if to punish them.
She threw them frozen
into the pressure cooker.
Sizzling and sputtering
with all that pent-up heat,
they were always cooked to death.
We ate them anyway.
I still love my vegetables,
lightly steamed,
fresh and crisp,
but my resolves re often mushy and over-done.
I eat them anyway.

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