Convergence of riches

Yes, the tree remains in the corner of the living room. The cats love it. In fact, so do we.

A convergence

Of riches:

Palm Sunday

Beginning of spring

Pussy willows

Fully greened

Kitten in the middle

Of the Tree

Once Christmas

Now Holy Week

Soon enough Easter.

We may drape it in red

For the Passion,

Perhaps plastic Easter eggs

To symbolize

The empty tomb

Yet one more tradition

To create

Out of scraps of spring

Branches of pussy willow

Kitten in its boughs:

Convergence

Of riches.

Fish dance

Every family has its traditions, particularly around Christmas.  Sometimes the traditions are not quite what would be listed in Emily Post.

It would not be Christmas

Without the annual

Dance around the fish.

My beloved works mightily

To cook

A fresh fish dinner

Every time

We are in Florida.

My beloved*s mother

Does everything in her power

To substitute

Frozen salmon

Gefilte fish.

You name it.

I have witnessed the dance,

The dance around the fish,

For over twenty years.

The argument is part

Of the Florida ritual dance

Around the fish

A dance with learned maneuvers

A dance as choreographed

As any ballet.

It would not be Christmas

Without the annual

Dance around the fish.

Pomegranate seeds

This year we are eating out for Thanksgiving.  We are going to a buffet which is donating part of the proceeds to the Chicago Food Depository.  When my daughter and I were in the grocery store yesterday, we noted the pomegranates.  We also saw, for the first time ever, on the top shelf of the prepared fruit section, a plastic container of pomegranate seeds.  I wonder what a restaurant would do if we sneaked it in under our coats?

This year we have no kitchen

For Thanksgiving.

Pomegranate

Is out of the question.

Of course,

For most people,

Pomegranates do not figure into

The Thanksgiving equation.

In my family

Pomegranate seeds

Always spell out

Thanksgiving

In the green salad,

Sections of pink grapefruit and sliced cucumber

To hold them in place,

So they do*t all slide

To the bottom of the salad bowl,

No longer a garnish,

But instead a part of

The remains of the day.