Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Small and humble,
It fills bellies,
When there’s no
Choice of grain.
The green leaves,
The tiny fruit,
Pantry for
Times of pain.
For the Sunday Still’s challenge: #Close and #Green
Small Staple
Nourishment
Tacked On
The house was there first. Small and determined, it huddled against constant winds, braved the sun, stood fast through raging dust-storms and the terror of lightning.
Years passed. The land yielded. The silo was built. A practical thing, meant to store the grain in. However, tacked on as it was, snug into the back wall of the cabin with nary a breath of space between, it also contained hope. It held the promise for winter stews and for bread rising in the oven even long after the growing months had gone and there was little sign of nascent greening, let alone of next harvest’s ripening.
The silo became another sturdy thing to be led home by. There when ice rode in and clouds breathed snow and the cabin was too lonely in the vastness of being. Together they formed a home. An oasis of nourishing.
For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge
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The Essentials
Finally.
She shrugged her pack off and lowered herself so her back rested against a tree, blessing — for the umpteenth time — the waterproofs she’d splurged on several years ago. The purchase had meant giving up puddings for two months, but she’d never regretted the trade-off.
Food was essential, but so was heeding nature’s call for spending time in the outdoors. It was required nourishment for her soul.
In any weather, no matter damp or cold.
Soon she’d make the tent, gather wood, and light a fire to cook her oats on. But first she just sat, filling her lungs with air and her mind with calm contentment.
Raised in the city, she didn’t know how hungry she was for the outdoors until friends invited them to join a camping trip. She was ten.
Her parents hated every minute of it. For her, it had been like finally finding home.
For Crimson’s Creative Challenge #52
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In These Hands
Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
In these hands
Is held the future,
Made of blooms
That kept their oath.
In these hands
Is held the fruit of
Sun’s long labor,
Fed by rain
And nature’s growth.
In these hands
Is cupped the sweet taste
Of confection,
And the marvel
That is bounty
And is beauty
And is both.
For Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Hands
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Be Like Cabbage
Photo: Amitai Asif
“Be like a flower,” she said,
Wrinkles creasing like sun
‘Round her eyes.
“Be like cabbage, too!”
And she laughed
At my confusion and
Touched a calloused hand
To my cheek
For the umpteenth loving time.
“Bloom alone does not fill stomachs,”
She explained
And the years without
Flickered sad behind her smile
But did not interfere.
“Cabbage blooms as pretty as any,
Yet unlike most who wilt
At summer’s end,
It will hold goodness at the ready
To nourish you through winter.”
“Be like a flower, then,” she smiled.
“And like a cabbage, too.
For it will sustain you:
Bland or spiced or hot or cold
Until the snow melts
And you have lived to a new spring
And can, one day, grow old.”
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Broken Whole
Photo: Atara Katz
As the cracked places show
Marks of toil
Disavowed
And the grooves of grain passed
Whisper tales of
Repast
Broken pieces reflect
Wholeness more than
Regret.
For The Daily Post
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Edible Blessing
Prickly Pear; Photo: A. Asif
May you find ample nourishment
In unforeseen places
And may your palate discern
True potential
Even amidst
Prickly spines.
May the sun warm your heart
Like a rain in the desert
To ripen fruits so refined
That they feed
All your needs
And your soul
Once again
Realigns.
For The Daily Post
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Lush Life
May you live life lushly.
May new life, both the organized and the wonderfully wild,
Find purchase in your soul
To grow
And feed
Your whole.
Orly Fuchs Galchen @ Dalia, Feb 2017
This photo of contrasting verdurous fields is by my wonderfully talented childhood friend and artist Orly Fuchs Galchen. (We’ve known each other since 6th Grade!)
