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  • Writer's pictureMichaela
    • Sep 8, 2019
    • 1 min read

Nutmeg

Warm shade under trees drooping golden flowers into air

Heavy with languor, with smiles, with softly brushing hands

With the wisdom of two lovers who know love is waiting,

Love is work, love is weighty as the fruits on bowing boughs

Cracking open to show forth beribboned seeds.

More than garnish or fragrance once knowledge is garnered,

Mixed with brine and brisket and given time to ripen

Into something more sustaining served in gladness

On platters heaped with root vegetables and cabbage,

A cut above the meager meat we once had tasted.

Shave the seed of it into morning oats so it sticks to the ribs

Nestled close against the heart, this comfort, this trust,

The wonder of it sprinkled in evening chocolate

Ladled from a copper pot and sipped between kisses.

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