We could argue all day about
what is and isn’t a poem
but let’s not.
Keep your perspective.
I’ll keep mine.
Let’s make pickles
in lieu of argument.
in my notebooks
grocery lists and recipes
are tucked among poems
like lighthouses
for coming back into this body
some days they
are my favorite poems
yesterday
two neighbors and I
crafted this one together
Bread and Butter Pickles, double batch
50 pickling cucumbers
10 onions
4 red bell peppers
8 garlic cloves
1 c salt
6 c cider vinegar
10 c sugar
4 TBS mustard seed
4 tsp celery seed
1 tsp whole cloves
4 tsp turmeric
there is so much beauty
in this simple list
the actions it evokes
such love,
history, tradition,
freedom (
we added jalapeños,
eased up a tiny bit on the sugar,
tried four different size jars, just because)
friendship
abundance
inspiration (
tomorrow, dills!)
that I can’t see recipes now
as anything but poems.
Feel life itself, poetry.
See friends and enemies,
as poets.
Find beauty,
everywhere.
