I do not often write poetry, but in one of the meetings I attended in the past couple of weeks, the subject came up of how nobody writes poetry in form anymore. That reminded me of something I wrote once as I was harvesting the last of my garden.

Sinful

Digging potatoes with a garden fork

Prince Harrys’ flesh white and crisp

as glaciers; surely it’s not sinful

to eat them raw. Reddales big

as my hand; boiled and buttered,

are a miracle to feed a multitude.

Squatty Tennessee cheese peppers, a multitude

achingly red as a kiss on my fork;

cauliflowers big as volleyballs, steamed, buttered,

tossed in a stir-fry – tender crisp

zucchini, nacreous flesh, not nearly as big

as the cucumbers diced and tossed with yogurt, garlic – Sinful!

Full-bodied tomatoes fed on compost, they’re sinful

with rich red and orange flesh peeking from a multitude

of cool-scented leaves.  Sweet bell peppers, big,

juicy purple and gold walls yield to my fork.

Tomatillos’ paper lanterns filling with crisp

sticky globes to chop for green salsa. Buttered

beets, deep wine red, tasting of earth, served with butter

crunch, red sails and cimmaron lettuce in sinful

salads complemented by spinach leaves crisp

as broccoli stalks.  A marching multitude

of cornstalks rustle in the breeze; a fork

or a thumbnail pierces one kernel on a big,

full ear, releasing sweet creamery milk. Big

voluptuous, deep purple eggplants, buttered

battered and fried, crisp crust soft to the fork;

or eggplant in cinnamon meat sauce with sinful

lemon and egg topping. Mousakka. Multitudes

of flavors melt in the mouth with the crisp

flavor of Retsina.  For dessert, there are crisp

layers of filo dough – baklava in a big

oven dish – more than enough to feed a friendly multitude.

The scent of freshly-baked bread, buttered

with rich creamery butter and spread with sinful

sweet blackberry jam.  Perhaps I can eat it with a fork.

Surrounded by riches, fresh vegetables buttered

or sautéed in olive oil, dripping with sinful

sauces.  Where will I sink my fork?