Write a poem about color

 

We eat with our eyes

I think as I prepare our simple
Saturday supper.

Boneless loin pork chops, browned

in olive oil with garlic and sliced

green peppers that slip from

bright to muted as heat softens them.

When the pork is done, (no more pink),

I plate it with peppers casualy draped on top

and a side of bright yellow polenta

flecked with green and orange from

shredded spinach and carrot bits.

Taking a look, I am satisfied

a work of art on a square white

china “canvas.”

Soon each canvas will be scraped clean

awaiting tomorrow’s work of

culinary artistry.