jar poem

poem that bubbled up from a friend's poetry and the fond memories I only barely have of "canning season". there seems to be a theme with putting puzzles pieces together. if only I could glue them in place.

---
His poetry right now is
a sweet sigh. In silk-steamy morning
light it shines sometimes, like
dewdrops that collect
then fall. such mundane breaking,
how we like to have things
put together— the simple contentment
of the top of a jar of jam—
that checker pattern
pulled tight.
crushed jewels of berries and
precious sugar, burnt fingers
steaming glass. poems that curve
like those jars—into my hands,
into the stinging water. My great-grandmother’s
recipe, elegant scrawl. It’s all
water-stained, worn to cloth, the
ruby-filled pot, cream paper,
the shining jars sitting on
my front step, waiting
to be taken, emptied, a sigh of ease
when the poem’s lid is tight.
Their gleaming sides studded with morning.

college=questionable health

I like widening the defintion of health--as Lewis Mendahl says, "If it works, it's good medicine."

For breakfast today: Lemon scone, banana, apple, trail mix, three pieces of fried chicken.

We'll see if I feel famished/faint as usual when I get out of class in four hours.... Speaking of class, I'm gonna be late!