While Sharpening a Knife
on an East Facing Porch
on an East Facing Porch
The Taverns miss me;
The Whiskey hopes
I have not taken ill.
They don’t know
I’d be home anyway
Drinking my special tea.
The Mountain does not miss me;
It sees me from there,
Knows that I am healthy.
The trout are grateful for the respite.
How do I know what the fish feel?
Go ahead and ask me,
I’ve been waiting all day
For this very question.
The crows do not care what I do.
My mandolin riles the songbirds.
The Squirrels are busy
Chasing squirrels.
The herbs in the garden are glad I am here.
They do better for more grazing.
The lush bed of Oregano
Has made my arms and head fragrant.
In the first place
Where I lived on my own,
Rooms and a gross shared kitchen in South Philly,
I would sit on the stoop
With a fifth of whiskey, a knife
And a hone
Listening to the Rolling Stones
While I learned to feel the bevel
Through the sharpening stone.
* My special Tea is mint, rosehips, licorice and elderberry.
