The onions are sprouting
Thus hope usurps doubting
Where we feared perhaps spring would lose her fair way
Where landscapes are pillowed
With white-capes soft billowed
Like waves made of marshmallow crème and star-fray
High-ho merry maiden
With pots and pans laden
With fresh-chopped ingredients ready for soup
Soon fresh garden salad
Will tickle the palate
Soon all this white mayhem will melt underfoot
Then sing without sorrow
In some soon tomorrow
The field’s frozen furrow will turn like a page
The seed in the packet
Will spill from its jacket
The bloom in the bud will break free of its cage
The onions are sprouting
This humble gourd shouting
From dark cellar corners of bright sunny hours
Then grin at this hinter
Teasing Old Man Winter
With tender green tendrils; the prelude to flowers
© Janet Martin
Thursday-what's-for-Supper was loosely based on this recipe...
(I added black beans, fresh veggies, soy sauce and omitted one can of soup)
Last night's supper left-overs are perfect for today's savoury snow-day soup!
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!