Six pints of string beans.

Preserve

PRESERVE

Truth is, we like the labors
better than their fruits

pulling up the plants
spindly and overgrown

fingers scented and smudged
cicadas droning high

then we wash and we trim
count peppercorns like coins

the work's sweetest with extra hands
to pack the treasure tight

we swig cold beer and lemonade
as steam rattles the kettle

the jars line up like proud soldiers
medals gleaming

all winter they stand guard
reassuring me again

that there will be enough
that love will not run dry

This week at Big Tent Poetry there are seven prompts again, one for each day of this final week of National Poetry Month. I chose to write to prompt #1: Write a poem about things in mason jars.

Ethan and I do a lot of canning and preserving. The bounty at Caretaker Farm is so extraordinary, and we love being people who take advantage of that abundance. But often as not, we reach the tail-end of winter and our baker's rack is still piled high with jars of last summer's harvest.

Maybe our real challenge is to feel grounded enough in this incredible abundance to eat everything we've salted away, knowing that another spring will always come.

Here's a link to this week's Come One, Come All post so you can see how others responded to these prompts.

[preserve.mp3]