There was a lot of cooking in this dream.
People knew each other, people whom
I did not know, peeling things, filling pots
with succulence, setting bowls and platters
upon an outdoor table, long and low.
Another night I visited this dream
to spy on them. They used no recipes.
Everyone knew everything and spooned piles
of nourishment, of morsels onto plates.
Large cooking pots emitted misty steam.
Again I tiptoe back into this dream.
People cluster, seated at the table.
One comes closer, sending me a tidbit.
Floating in the air, I cannot reach it.
I know another night we’ll try again.
—
Sandy White received her MFA in Creative Writing from Dominican University of California. Using Adelaide Crapsey’s short form called the American Cinquain, she writes:
Sandy
White loves to write.
Emersing herself in
story telling’s her favorite way
to play.
22 syllables, 2-4-6-8-2 syllables on 5 lines.