The ribbons vibrantEach a different colorGripped with earnest fingersFlowing around the othersAdding shapes to the mosaicThis moment a unique kaleidoscope patternUntil they shift againCircling the same
StingPierces my eyelidsMy nose runs, then my eyesI pause the rhythmic chop of onionTo avoid sliced finger tipsOn to the celeryThinly sliced so it will meld
She sprouted from the rock centuries ago Enduring earthquakes, fires and Man’s greed for extravagant abodes She stands alone Her branches curve in a dancer’s
