Her smooth skin is an illusion:
Inside, she’s tough like leather.
I don’t mean this cynically.
She’s seen catastrophe:
Yet, she persists.
Carrying a torch with a hopeful flame
That never dies out.
I don’t understand this.
She studies genocide,
Yet, she tells me everything
Will be okay.
Today I wanted to bring you a photo of my family’s old farm. These 250 acres of the family farm land in Pelham, TN, is where I spent a lot of my time growing up and where I learned a lot about food. My Mutsi had a tiny vineyard where we could pick the grapes to make jam. My Papa had a little garden out front where we could collect veggies for our salads and other side dishes.
you welcome me into
the bridal chamber,
white sheets against your pale skin
the nightingale sings
of our love
What is happiness?
It’s sitting in the comfy chair in the reading nook, next to you while you work away at your desk. It’s our pup laying behind your chair, chewing his favorite toy, completely at peace. It’s our baby girl, purring away sitting on the ottoman next to my feet.
Happiness isn’t money or the nicest things the world has to offer.
Happiness is your kind and loving heart, loving me forevermore.
Being a Southern woman, making food is a part of your soul. It’s in our blood, it’s part of our spirit. It’s just what we do – we cook when we’re happy, when we’re expecting guests, when we’re down, or during a pandemic.
She slinks through the apartment
like a predator
a mouse-killer on the prowl
a scowl on her feline face
little Olivia, our baby girl
she’s a cute kitty, but
she’s also a cold-blooded killer.
Note: This poem is about our cat, Olivia. She’s the cutest little kitty, and also an excellent mouser!
I knew nothing of Shabbat before you
or the prayers we say on Friday nights
as we break off pieces of challah + let the candle
burn all night by the window –
I’m happy you’ve taught me, it’s brought me
a new ritual in this life, the life we share together.
(Photo source: shutterstock.com)
We’ve been together for two years
and it keeps getting better –
I know you well, but will I ever know you completely?
Your essence, sense of self, the core of you
that’s hidden and accessible only to you and God
but as the days go by, more is revealed
and it keeps getting better.
The wild gardens in our neighborhood grow onto sidewalks
weeds choke out flowers in front of beautiful homes
near the synagogue we wish to visit whenever
this virus stuff is over –
wild gardens, with daisies and wildflowers
that remind me of your wild spirit + ceaseless bravery.
(Photo by Scott Webb on Unsplash)
I was eager to see Tennessee –
cigarettes were cheap, people moved slow +
we devoured fried chicken for breakfast –
never ventured into the country, stayed close
to anonymous highways + strip malls
that strip America of originality.
(Photo by Jeff Nissen on Unsplash)