She has gone shopping for chicken stock.
I miss the vichyssoise of this potpourri season.
The unexpected earliness of most happenings
are so easy to miss.
My friend will soon return with a carton of broth,
plus, a Saran wrapped pre-prepared roaster.
I miss the plucking and the slimy fingered
dressing of a fresh plump bird,
the cleaning and chopping, the spatchcock,
the ‘mise en place’.
Today I will cook only with missing ingredients.
Everything is in order,
all is a hunger surrounded
by the soft anticipation of open lips.
I do miss the mélange and medley,
the consommé of fat times.
I will miss cracking chicken bones,
scraping out their boiled gelatinous marrow,
miss the suety brewing of bouillon,
the simmering potage.
My friend returns from the store.
She miles at the look
of childish relief on my face.
If I am left alone too long, I tend to make lists,
I become a Saran wrapped emptiness -
I disappear for a while.
"Who am I?
Who is but the form following the function of what, and what I am is a man in a mask,
but on this most auspicious of nights, permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace sobriquet, to suggest the character of my dramatis persona.
Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran,
cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate.
This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished.
However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin van-guarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition.
The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous.
LOL,.. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it is my very good honor to meet you, and you may call me V."
.. from the movie, V For Vendetta
SCENT OF MONTREAL
Off the Place d’Armes near the Ruelle
Des Fortifications, is a restaurant small -
Cosy with smell of garlic with all :
Makes me hungry and want to sit a spell.
Every dish is a delight: I love each one so -
Cheesy Onion soup and Vichyssoise;
The omelettes and the souffle a la quebecoise;
Cuisses de grenouilles and escargots.
Sound of caleches across the square
Faint violin music down the street there
This today is la joie de vivre
The city breathes with Frenchness in the air -
Near to heaven-scent it is so rare -
But better if it were le Quebec libre
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. .
Written by Sydney Peck
French sonnet form
Entered in Cyndi MacMillan’s Contest UN, DEUX, TROIS....OOH LA LA!!!!
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