All of a sudden the clouds
arrayed themselves like
dumplings across the sky,
and there I was in the hot tub,
bubbling away, the chicken
in the pot. OK, a tiny chicken,
really not so much as
a slice of carrot or celery,
not even a pea,
but for a moment I stopped
regarding myself as the chef.
I was looking up from the pot,
and the moon was looking down,
and since then I have been wondering
what it would take for me
to be a little more tender,
a little more savory,
some needed ingredient
for this stew we're in.
-Lynn Ungar 1-13-21
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