Saturday, August 5, 2017

Typing typing typing - Poem: Stopping by the Woods on the Way to the Compost Heap

Mark Ward's Sheep in Upper Makefield PA.

STOPPING BY THE WOODS ON THE
WAY TO THE COMPOST HEAP

After depositing the latest
detritus from my chipped
yellow pitcher

I stood and stared. So much
to see and hear!

Hear hear!

The cicadas sang their
mating songs from high
in the trees in the
little woods behind my house.

Tufts of onion grass swayed
in the breeze and smelled like
a fine English onion pie

I peeked through the netting
to see how our peaches are doing
Nothing can stop them
All half grown, waiting
to end up in a latticed
peach pie, with a butter
pie crust, from one of
Mom's recipes

Life has so much to offer
Who am I to complain?
Savor what we've got
in the time that remains.

***

Took me nearly TWO HOURS to type up Mom's spaghetti pie.

Writes Marcy: two hours!! it'll probably take some lucky soul less than 10 minutes to eat it! hope they thank you profusely!

***
Image result for spaghetti pie

Am gonna read myself to sleep.

When I finished watching THE LAST WORD with Shirley MacLaine at the Huntingdon Valley library, I walked down to the first level and said,

Ruth, you are absolutely not allowed to bring home any of these free books.

My arms ached as I walked to my car with the three books of my choosing.
 

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