From growl and gut
Of animal rut
Comes old milk
This cheese
From cluck and clatter
Of chicken’s patter
These eggs ‘n batters
In threes
Fried and boiled
In olive oil
From germ of wheat
On table neat
Pureed in wind-chaffed
Prairies take
Sandwich baked
So jump thee
Jump children
To table spread
Make haste
Away from puppy’s
Outstretched paws
Who’ll steal away fast
"...In the kitchen sink, looking like two freshly scrubbed cherubs, Sunday roasting [and] frying chickens..." dpdOn angel’s wings
And sing, sing, sing
2 comments:
Reminds me of stopping in Industry to pick-up a sack of onions and see what calves were for sale.
In the kitchen sink, looking like two freshly scrubbed cherubs, Sunday roasting or frying chickens.
Whatever the farmers wife decided, always wish we were one hour later on our foray. MMMMmmmmmmm!
I remember that swing by Industry for the best onions east of China. You're so funny... and ceuwte. How do ya' doit, ya rapscallion?
Country forays: It really is like that verse from Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys, "Take off your coat, throw it in the corner... Don't see why you don't stay a little longer!!"
pd
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