In the interim, a few poems for the season.

Soon we'll return to theologies and adventures in seminary land, but for now, a few turkey related recipe poems:

Curried Turkey and Apple Soup

2 Granny Smith apples
cored, peeled, chopped
naked, trembling
waiting for the sweet of cinnamon
the heat of pepper and Tabasco
the slow comfort of curry.
And then, sleeping with the windows open in early September
the first time in the season you can pull up the quilt
and wake, in morning,
delicious.

Lemon Chicken Rice Soup

I forget which lover taught me the way
to soften lemons.
Drop the fruit and
press it gently to the floor, rolling it under the arch of your foot.

I remember the lover who taught me
to boil whole chickens.
And the one who showed me how to plant basil
and how her spatulate hands looked in the soil.

A slow boil
A simmer
A dash of Tabasco
1 small carrot diced fine
I remember:
Heat, amount, and the cut.

Cream of Broccoli Soup

The best way to eat broccoli
is to pretend you are a brontosaurus
chomping your way through the forest canopy.
Forget that the name brontosaurus
only exists in the popular imagination, and
was formally discarded by scientists in 1903.
Who needs scientists anyway?
You would eat them too
but you know that the brontosaurus,
by any other name,
is an herbivore.