Supermarket Baby

Supermarket Baby

See your father choose tomatoes, fingers feeling their cheeks

for bruises. He finds the reddest ones and checks the price

while a teenager strides in and takes the first ones he touches.

There’s a young couple walking beside the long lettuce row

shaking water from an iceberg head before slipping it down

from the man’s hand, to the woman’s hand, to the plastic bag.

Look at the grandmother waiting patiently with her petite cart

decorated with three cans, a box of wheat crackers, green bell

peppers and patience in the traffic jam of Saturday shopping.

Watch and learn. Your father’s hands are bunched with bananas

to fill our basket. Moving on, another baby in his mother’s arms

twists his body to see the yoghurt shelves and the yellow butter

boxes smiling in a soft light. Hear the laughter of a bag of chips

crinkling between the grasp of two sisters. Your father carries

packs of flour, sugar, and the grin of success. What will we be

eating tonight? What richness is he preparing us for at home?

I hope you notice in your curiosity a difference between people

shopping with love and reckless folks chucking chunks of cheese

into their mix of frozen dinner toppled over smushed white bread.

Our path is practiced up and down the aisles, past the pasta

sauce and parmesan, ending near the flowers. Smell them!

The rosebuds are growing a deep tomato red as we come

to the conclusion. We wait in the diminishing lines together,

holding each other and the ample basket: everything we need.

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A couple days ago I went shopping with my sister Madelene, her husband Hiller, and their 18 month old baby Jenna. It was, in fact, a Monday morning, but it was nonetheless a busy hour and I helped out the family by watching and holding onto Jenna while Madelene and Hiller got the groceries from their lists. As they went about their shopping, I couldn't help but notice the care with with Hiller chose  the tomatoes and various other ingredients and how some people just didn't seem to care what they were putting in their baskets. In fact, there was such a variety of shoppers that I began talking to Jenna about all the different types of people. And that, my friends, was the beginning of the formation of this poem. I wanted this poem to have a positive family feel to it and the idea of caution and caring when doing things as a family. Hopefully this poem touches you in some way. As always, if you have any suggestions for improvement or any comment (or thing that confused you) please let me know. Thanks!

Green Spectrum Litany

So, while doing vigilance in my normal spot at camp, a glade on the way to the lake, I decided it would be interesting to write a descriptive poem all about green things and see where it took me. I liked the result, so I'm posting it. It creates a cool mood that I like and I hope you like it too!

Green Spectrum Litany

Green dandelion leaves digging deep with their fat roots, invading old glades,

            spreading like an unknown fire,

green ferns fanning each other in the wind like Victorian ladies, turning around,

            and chattering like children in church,

green pine needles sticking close, evergreen, full of sap and stories and shaking

            wherever they go when they’re gone,

green maples in summer, when hillsides are robed in ripe fields,

            berry bushes, mint, and rose stems,

dark algae green, cut grass after rain, trees in the shade of trees,

light green eyes, thumbs of planters dreaming of green,

            the underside of birch leaves in the sun,

hard green of flowerless magnolias, strewn deep-forest moss, and frog skin,

soft lichen green, the green painted sky of a thunderstorm wild enough

            to uproot all the other greens and cast them on paths

            green hasn’t hiked for years,

the shadows of green abandoned on sandy homes of dirt, stony days,

            and white lies of a green that doesn’t exist.