#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Berry On Leaves
A Woman Cleaning Lentils
A lentil, a lentil, a lentil, a stone.
A lentil, a lentil, a lentil, a stone.
A green one, a black one, a green one, a black. A stone.
A lentil, a lentil, a stone, a lentil, a lentil, a word.
Suddenly a word. A lentil.
A lentil, a word, a word next to another word. A sentence.
A word, a word, a word, a nonsense speech.
Then an old song.
Then an old dream.
A life, another life, a hard life. A lentil. A life.
An easy life. A hard life, Why easy? Why hard?
Lives next to each other. A life. A word. A lentil.
A green one, a black one, a green one, a black one, pain.
A green song, a green lentil, a black one, a stone.
A lentil, a stone, a stone, a lentil.
Zahrad (Zareh Yaldizciyan), http://poems.nickfraser.org/2016/05/08/a-woman-cleaning-lentils/
Sunday after Christmas, before New Years, restful and quiet. A late walk in the dry woods and a good day for making soup. Friends who are vegan are coming. What can I make? I find a colorful cupboard full of organic lentils - green, black, red, my daughter has bought. I have carrots, celery, onions, organic vegetable broth. I pour the lentils into a strainer: A lentil, a lentil, a word. In the cookbook I owned under another long ago name, I flip the soiled pages to a favorite recipe. I have made memories of this soup on ski trips and other winter events stretching back decades. Thank you Molly Katzen, for this gentle soup, this delicious afternoon.
