Lucky for me
on the mornings
no poems come
there is another way
I keep emergency supplies:
bunch of bright green onions
box of mushrooms
fresh ginger
in its plain brown wrapper
so I can make soup
Later in the day
far from this sweet
quiet morning
I’ll remember this soup,
forgotten in the day’s rush I’ll
spoon it up to warm and
feed and brighten
the rest of the day
Which is a different flavor but
exactly
the taste of a poem
Puff Of Smoke Poems 