These last couple of days have felt like summer. Temps rising into the high 80s, cloudless deep blue skies, lengthening days and so much time at home–it’s hard to believe we are still in April. And we came home from the grocery store with an artichoke yesterday; a huge, round, green globe that ended up as part of our dinner tonight…and the subject of today’s poem.
In the Artichoke Scraps…
In the purple papery leaves
summer emerges
and I remember racing through the sprinklers
screaming as the cold droplets landed on warm skin
laughing with my sister
as we ran back and forth across the lawn
In the salty butter
I taste home
dinner like clockwork at 5
our family of 4 gathered around the dinner table
to eat and argue
mediated by dad and the dictionary
In the sharp spines
a fortress is present
circle the wagons
with our hearts, soft and tender, at the center
guarded carefully
closing tightly when necessary
In the leaves, the curves, the smells, and the taste
of an artichoke
lives
my childhood
home
comfort
and love
all wrapped up in a thistle
®Douillard