Dear Easter, I'm so glad to see you, I can't eat much more.
My feasters must be discontinued or I won't get out the door.
My marriage just can't take the strain, my husband's threat was shocking:
If I can't practice some restraint he's going to do the shopping.
He says he's now afraid to peek in any press or drawer
because of the CSI-type scenes of severed body parts:
Behind the Calpol he observed a hen's head with bitten beak
and in the filing cabinet a lamb's tail under NCT.
I add Easter eggs to my trolley while others abstain for Lent:
Concealing unofficial spoils is how the time is spent.
I polish off packs of little chicks and bunnies on hind legs
and then proceed to scoff a range of filled and hollow eggs.
Shuffling boxes, tearing foil, illicit chocolate snapping,
replacing those I've enjoyed then ripping the stand-ins' wrappings.
There it is, my whole confession, I've kept you for a month.
Easter Sunday won't be special but I've had a great Easter egg hunt.
(Explanation: Tomorrow is Easter Sunday. I'm not too excited about all the Easter eggs that we'll have because I've been eating them secretly for weeks!)
Saturday 4 April 2015
Wednesday 1 April 2015
April Fools
My father gave us leeks.
He tried to give us more
but there's only so many we can eat
regardless of his store.
These alliums are in his way now,
new drills must be prepared.
He has his patch planned out
and the leeks may not be spared.
He'll try his best to palm them off
with offers made to every guest.
Despite his effort to grow enough
each year there's something in excess.
We've had our fill of soup,
these days we like them fried
with a pinch of salt or two,
mayonnaise on the side.
Reluctantly inside with bowls,
kids in jumpers like April fools
as they sniffle through Spring colds
from wearing t-shirts far too soon.
Today they did a ring-around,
phone calls to all for Fools' Day.
"Nana, your knickers are falling down",
the same theme for each trick played.
A sudden thought of Plato
as I walk my daily mission,
admiring ridges of potatoes
laid out with precision.
My husband's artistry,
the start of many pieces
from here to pods of peas
if this rain ever ceases.
This month, for my age set,
is the last one of Spring.
Gary salutes, "it's very fresh"
on his all-weather dog-walking.
He tried to give us more
but there's only so many we can eat
regardless of his store.
These alliums are in his way now,
new drills must be prepared.
He has his patch planned out
and the leeks may not be spared.
He'll try his best to palm them off
with offers made to every guest.
Despite his effort to grow enough
each year there's something in excess.
We've had our fill of soup,
these days we like them fried
with a pinch of salt or two,
mayonnaise on the side.
Reluctantly inside with bowls,
kids in jumpers like April fools
as they sniffle through Spring colds
from wearing t-shirts far too soon.
Today they did a ring-around,
phone calls to all for Fools' Day.
"Nana, your knickers are falling down",
the same theme for each trick played.
A sudden thought of Plato
as I walk my daily mission,
admiring ridges of potatoes
laid out with precision.
My husband's artistry,
the start of many pieces
from here to pods of peas
if this rain ever ceases.
This month, for my age set,
is the last one of Spring.
Gary salutes, "it's very fresh"
on his all-weather dog-walking.
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