HOW TO GET THROUGH A DAY WHEN ALL THE TALK IS OF WAR

Photo by S. Auberle

In the midst of all this saber rattling, an old poem of mine...

First you notice the mellow afternoon,

with the oak glowing bronze

by your front door and one last bee,

drunk on September and fallen apples,

weaving down your window screen.

Then you might try

frying an onion and lots

of garlic in some olive oil.

While that fragrance is luring

all manner of creatures to your door,

you could puree two cans

of Caribbean-style black beans

with about one half can of chicken broth,

then mix it all together, along

with the rest of the can of broth

to heat through.  Add a dollop

of sour cream in each bowl and

serve with red wine, some olives,

a green salad with the hint of oil and vinegar,

and a fresh, crusty French baguette

that you must tear apart in the best spirit

of breaking bread—with an old lover,

or a friend who knew you when.

Alone is good, too, with Bach

and a book of poems.

Then indulge, enjoy, surrender

to this moment that is all there is,

to the bee, the oak, the falling night,

to this prelude of smoky light,
golden against evening shadows...