The Onggi

This week my writing homework involved looking out a window and writing notes for a week and then crafting those notes into a poem.  I rarely write poetry.  Maybe once every decade or so, so this class will be a little weird for me, but you know me.... do my best forget the rest. 

We are staying in M/B's apartment in San Francisco.  Thank you M/B!!!!  I've spent some time looking out the window down on to a busy restaurant kitchen.  Here's the poem I finally wrangled down to the ground. Why don't you read it if you feel like it?

inside 7C

on Hawthorne Street

coffee does its thing

 

eye spy 

with my little i 

a restaurant kitchen

 

lone chef 

slices green guava

juicy red circles

 

rows of onggi 

clay pots 

housing fermenting alchemy

 

afternoon tea inside 7C

eye spy with my little i

bustling kitchen brigadiers 

 

before dinner rush  

chefs eat brussels sprouts and chicken

and drink from chunky mugs

 

the plates they serve

 cost 350 dollars

let's eat in tonight

 

In 7C it's time

for bed

eye spy with my little i one last time

 

the gibbous moon 

lone chef 

at the sink