Wednesday, 22 June 2011

And one more - the Swedes are nutty about rose-hip soup!

Rose-hip soup

The cool, cool rose-hip soup on the verandah.
Cream (if there was any) in the middle,

like a tiny cloud, a nebulosa
that grew at uniform velocity

in all directions. Perhaps an emerging
planetary system. Never the same way twice.

The grown-ups impatiently waiting:
Why does the boy refuse to eat?

What was it this cloud was trying to become?
How hard with one’s spoon to

introduce a dreary entropy
into this tiny universe!

And the grown-ups:
If you don’t want your soup, then I’ll have it.

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