5:15 in the morning walking to start the preheat.
Yesterday I seasoned the meat. Today it cooks.
I hear the sound of rain–
–drops left over from the night.
It begins again as though the start.
Radiators tick like time passes, seasons fading into each other.
I sit. Book in hand:
“Essays After Eighty.”
The scent permeates the space. Hardwood floors warm to the touch of heat.
Baked chicken with rosemary nestled under cream of mushroom soup.
–routine unshaken even by tasks added.
This is life.
Nearly two hours later and piping hot
it falls from the bone.
I hope they enjoy it.
Posted in food, life, morning writing, poetry | Tagged connection, culinary, donald hall, family, food, foodie, life, love, morning, oakland writer, poetry, potluck, sharing, writer | 4 Comments »
I sip-slow of your warmth.
Don’t want to lose myself in the burn,
though I am drawn more closely to you.
Heat-steamed like passion.
I swallow, closing my eyes holding the moment.
I blow before I taste, watch the movement of my breath atop your surface.
I can’t imagine not having you, even contemplating not takes me from knowing I do.
I taste again.
Sipping-slowly your warmth.
Posted in Coffee, morning writing, poetry, romance, sensuality | Tagged coffee, coffee drinker, coffee lover, morning, morning routine, oakland writer, passion, poetry, rain, rainy days, romance, sensuality, writer | Leave a Comment »
During tastings, I taste you. I hold you there in the wet of my mouth exploring your layers.
Bold, rich with age, ripe like you’ve been waiting for me.
I’ve waited for you
–there in the dark, dank barrel of time.
I’ve allowed for my own growth that my appreciation would deepen dark like the color of you. I close my eyes experiencing your fullness. I swirl you around eyeing your grace growing impatient
–the way that you tease me.
And then I taste.
There is nothing outside of the taste of you.
Posted in poetry, red wine, wine | Tagged oakland writer, poetry, red wine, sensual, wine, wine lover, wine tasting, writer | 8 Comments »
For so long I’ve been in pursuit of you, this mysterious energy aligned with the essence of the path upon which I walk. For years have I sought the face of you only to encounter what comes of rapid rivers and storms rushing in. It rained. Wind blowing away illusions that truth might be revealed. It’s been a cycle like predictable seasons where sameness carries the disappointment of unrealistic expectations. I should have carried my umbrella, taken it with me as I walked the streets going in the direction of there, wherever there is. Truth is, I went out naked having ignored my intuition, closing my eyes to reports of heavy rain and wind storms, swept away by hope and desire. What of hope and desire protects the body against mind? Acceptance. Maybe had I stayed home and sat in the aloneness of my own vibration I would have ended the cycle and made room for the new. Now I return dripping wet with experience, ending my own suffering.
Posted in Acceptance, Compassion, Connection, Inquiry, life journey, poetry, prose, relationship | Tagged aloneness, connection, contemplation, end to suffering, intimacy, life, literature, love, meditation, oakland writer, poetry, prose, reflection, self inquiry, spirituality, writer | 4 Comments »