Morning kitchen. Poof the flour
in Mama’s mixing bowl.
Crackin’ eggs and stirring with a wooden spoon.
Too hot the oven. Close the draft
and open back porch door.
Roll the batter flat.
Cut and hang the noodles on a rack.
Mama’s kitchen in the morn
Is there room for me to run the rolling pin
if I pull a chair up next to you?
Lots of noodles yet to make
to keep the chicken pleased in pot.
I’m not tired for my nap.
Can I crack the eggs and stir ‘em yellow
with the spoon?
Is it too soon to taste the dough?
I get the one I dropped all on the floor.
I’ll wash my hands
and then I’ll make some more.
When it’s time for supper,
cabbage, ‘tatoes, peas,
and please pass the cookin’ pot.
Look-it. I helped Mama.
Making noodles for the soup.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Memories from my life as a boy...