The Muse

I roll rotis
stir the sauce where
peas and tomatoes simmer,
grate cottage cheese that coagulate
into a dreamy film,
I cook rice, mashed potatoes
for my mother
who needs soft food,
water the plants,
locate the cricket in my kitchen,
nudge him out into the garden –
my nerves at edge from
hearing him shrilly rub his wings 
for two nights now,
I  skip making a soup –
just an apple for me for dinner
and a banana may be,
I change the flowers in the vase,
float rose petals in the glass bowl,
I leave milk to boil on the stove
and sit to write –  
like my son’s kite that cut way 
to rest on the jambul tree
heavy with purple berries,
poetry snaking around me  
as I went about my chores,
has settled like cream
on the milk boiling over in the kitchen.   

Read Write Poem NaPoWriMo # 5


7 thoughts on “The Muse

  1. quiet resting cooking is the best kind of peace there ever was… is this the flower… oh whaz the name… they grow in hawaii and have a very strong sweet scent?? at night when the frogs croak i always thought it was night singing… happy day 5!! file and forget

  2. More beautiful images, sounds, and scents. I felt like I was almost drawn into a “bee loud glade” with one of my other favorite poets, William Butler Yeats. Nice work, Uma!

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