Garden Muse Post

Check out Bloomingwriter's Blog and her links to other garden bloggers. It's Garden Muse day apparently. In her honor, I post this about eating from the garden, which is what I do now rather than garden. But oh I love those who grow the food and flowers.


Blueberry nights

Fireflies glow
along the branches
of the apple tree
and between the big oaks,
deep in the woods.

The porch door closes behind us
with a snap as loud as our laughter
after the race that got us here
through the woods from the lake.

Inside, ice rattles in glasses,
cigar smoke encircles
our parents and grandparents
as cards slap against the table.

But here, on the porch,
there is a blueberry cobbler.
Fresh from the oven,
cooling on the checkered oilcloth.
Next to the warm pan,
a mason jar holds a dozen spoons,
business ends down.

We dip right into the crusty pan
with our spoons and
devour the cobbler,
sticking out our stained tongues
to see each other’s blues.

On our porch the only sounds
Are smacking lips,
scraping spoons,
and soft laughter
around mouths full
of blue heaven.

This blueberry night
of sunburned limbs
and hair smelling of seaweed;
this blueberry night
we catch fireflies
and name them.
This blueberry night
a mason jar holds
the keys to our happiness,
and sweetened stains
on teeth and tongues
are the only blues we know.