A POEM A DAY

I'm just happy to be here.

Tag: covid poems

19/30: MIRACLE OF SLOW HEAT

All day, we wait for the roast to fall apart
in the most beautiful way. I teach you how
to sear chuck roast in the Dutch Oven.
The oil pops a righteous song
We two-step in the kitchen.
I tell you to trust the process.
A textbook sear appears.
We’re nearly there, my love.
No need for a recipe,
I know where we’re going.
With a little patience,
Dinner is on the way.
Tonight we put our trust
in the miracle of slow heat.
I am a man in love with the idea of tenderness,
no matter how long it takes.

18/30: A WATCHMAN

Strawberries, blueberries, apples,
lemon juice and orange juice,
sugar and slow heat
collide.
I witness
the alchemy of time,
what happens to
sweetness in the fire.
A watchman
over the flames.
Bearing fruit
until it reduces
into itself.
When I say I create,
I want you to hear
homemade. I want you to think
of my hands like a door,
open and ready
to work.

17/30: SERENDIPITY, OR CHAOS IN THE COSTCO PARKING LOT

Taking our groceries to the car,
the Saturday sky looms like a bully
like Houston on a hot spring day.
We put the groceries away, efficiently
escaping the rain’s sudden arrival,
just a second faster than the downpour.
We missed the touch of a storm,
and I praise serendipity
with good timing
from my driver’s seat,
reminding myself that
even the tiniest miracle
is its own kind of chaos—
a silent disruption
in the plot of what
we thought was
going to happen.