What’s for dinner—a first draft, a few lines of metered verse with a side of green cabbage.
Peeled from my grandmother’s kitchen, the south,
pale green slivers scattered beneath a dull
blade. Full in the pot, salt, pepper, and stock
bubbling slow. I poured in piles of soft
feathered middles, raw cabbage to cook two
hours, until the flesh turns golden, seasoned
steaming cloud burst, boiling savory pot.
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Dionne
Yummy! My favorite!
Les
It is the best isn’t it? Now, you have to make some soon.