Plenty
by Dara-Lyn Shrager

I nearly baked my head,
Basting
A broiling chicken,
Corncobs jittering
Over flames,
Steam burning flowers
On my face.
It was a good summer meal,
Hot buttered
Sourdough rolls,
Tomatoes
In cool ranch dressing.

I served my suntanned family,
Still damp from the pool,
The littlest with starfish eyes,
Perching himself at the table,
Naked from the waist up,
Waving at the steaming corn,
sweet to his sweet,
Perfume to his chlorinated perfume.
It was a good summer day
With plenty of everything,
Yet nothing special,
Save that it happened at all.