poetry

Baked from Midwest Sun in Strawberry Fields to Table

Photo by Polina Tankilevitch on Pexels.com

Many summers ago, in Iowa’s July heat, we spent a day.

Sun baking my freckled skin, I knelt in the wild strawberry patch.

My friend nearby, reminding me when I wearied, of the promise.

As night came, and we were back to our Illinois homestead,

we set the table with whipped topping centermost.

With growl inducing scents of batter to steam

from the waffle iron, we started losing our cool.

Sitting at the table, holding holds for grace,

we were indeed grateful for our day,

Ending with strawberry waffles.

,,,,,,

short story

Time to Get Up!

variety of cooked dishes
Photo by Burst on Pexels.com

Taking his job seriously, Daddy was always up at 5 a.m. and almost as early on the weekends, making sure he and the household was up and on time for events of the day.

A fine Saturday morning, I was in a deep slumber, when Daddy came knocking on my door. “Time to get up, you are going to be late for school!”

Rubbing my eyes and jumping from the bed, it took me a moment or two to realize it was Saturday and no school.

Daddy laughed and laughed and then announced that breakfast was ready.

You couldn’t argue this, Daddy was on time and he made the best breakfasts I have ever tasted, so there’s that and I soon forgot his joke, until I told it many times since.

daddy and me in england

Daddy and I a few years before the breakfast incident.
…..

Did you like this? Go on over and check out what the rest of the contributors have cooked up. Might need a cup of coffee or cocoa while you read along.
Go to this link: Six Sentence Story