Sunday-Night Vigil
This was a cooking Sunday;
A mushroom tarragon
French cuisine Sunday;
Where the rapture of Julia Child
Days of cooking, cooking, cooking
Rose deep from every pore,
With the bliss of adding
Unmeasured ingredients
And delight in the territory
Of rarely explored spices.
Feeling, sensing the mind
Going into a place of creative joy,
A place of quiet surrender,
With nothing left to do
But leave all behind.
"Bon appetit."
Copyright © Orma Sullivan | Year Posted 2007
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment