Eight Lines or Less

Good morning.

I'm still struggling with the poem a day concept. If I can think of one by the end of this post, I 'll put it in at the end.  I think I should put the poems in italics so they won't get mixed up with my prose, lol.

Yesterday we spoke of figs.  My figs are finally beginning to come out and ripen.  It is so cool and, especially, so dark here this summer that I guess they don't know they should be here.  My friend up in (I thought) way cooler Mission Hills had tons of Black Missions at the book club on Monday night. Maybe we are not watering enough. On the other hand you don't want your figs to be watery...I just don't know.

Mary shared a delightful and easy fig recipe.

Oil your baking sheet (I use Spectrum Spray Grapeseed Oil, very nice)...

Cut your figs in half and lay them on the sheet.  On top of each fig, put a quantity of crumbled feta cheese. On top of that, put a pecan.  Having preheated the oven to moderate temperature, put the baking sheet into the oven until the feta browns a bit and the nut is toasty.  This should not be too long.   Put on a plate and pass around, with napkins.

These treats were really sweet and juicy and the salty feta just points up the sweetness of the fig. Yummy.

The title of this post is "Eight Lines or Less," because that is the title of  a book of poems in my possession. No poem in it is longer than eight lines.  That seems easier, but it is of course actually harder, than writing a long poem.  I seem to be balking at writing anything at all. Even a three-line Haiku seems to be beyond me now. 

Take courage, Linda! Man up and write SOMETHING!  OK...four lines, perhaps?

The summer has been confusing: cool, and dark.
The mornings darker than the evenings
By California's strange climate laws.
Often the sun does not break through till sunset,
Mocking us with the day we might have had.
At night we lie awake and listen to the car horns,
Monotonously repeating, fultilely pleading for help,
Outside our window.  Calm, neighbors!
Nobody's going to steal your cars.

Well, that last line is a clinker for sure. And a lie--though not many car thieves seem to peruse Fairway Court, thank goodness.  That is all I can choke out for today. YAZZYBEL