steam fills the sugar house until the ceiling
is lost in a white haze
and the enticing aroma of maple
wafts out across the dormant gardens
as the sap winds its way through the pans
from clear and bubbling to golden and frothy
we stoke the raging inferno beneath it
and wait for it to reach the proper density
those brief moments when we open a valve
and syrup trickles out
we stand in the heat and the steam
talking and smelling and tasting
and can easily imagine
generations before us
doing the same
Your poems are always so lovely <3
ReplyDeleteEllie | On the Other Side of Reality
Thank you, Ellie!
DeleteThis was delightful!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Jack!
DeleteBeautiful! I loved reading this! :)
ReplyDelete~ Lilou
Thank you, Lilou Nox! I'm glad you enjoyed it.
Delete