A recipe I downloaded
Flutters on my desktop.
I keep thinking it’s a poem
Posted there
With its luscious title:
Blackberry irresistible surely
Essence of
My north’s high summer
Its punitive guarded
Providence
When one morning
Is just imperceptibly
Cold enough to turn
The gas-burning
Pot-bellied stove on
For an hour
Before I let Anne’s chickens out
And open the barn
Which smells sweet
Of hay bales, horses
Bedding, and the berries
We picked along Blazing Tree Lane
Yesterday, arms, legs
And mouths bloodied.
We stored them in the freezer
Where they wouldn’t rot
Before we made a clafoutis,
That French pudding
Cherry-stuffed traditionally
But cherries are ripe in spring
And we are headed into winter
Geese honking south, etc. . . .
You should eat it hot
Directly from the oven,
But it will still be good
For breakfast, left over.