The spice drawer – poem for dVerse

This drawer is full of magic –
I have witchcraft stored here –
tangled in the twisting scents of nutmeg
and vanilla, waiting to be stirred
into life with my long spoon –

all the colours of the desert,
and a slow line of camels
making their way westward –

and I have dreams, too,
dreams that crunch through
the snow, sugar under foot,
dreams that pirouette
across the table –
dreams of gingerbread,
and the fresh scent of pine trees;

and memories – these warm
memories, fresh from the oven –
the scent of cloves on Sunday mornings,
the smell of cinnamon, crisped with sugar –
a street bazaar that scatters
cumin and coriander
through the morning air,
the hot taste of chai
as the mist rises
and the first train pulls in –

this drawer is full of magic
waiting to be set free.

Gina is tending the bar at dVerse tonight and asks us to look for the magic in ordinary things. Christmas is coming, and the spice drawer is being raided on a regular basis in our house. I’ve always liked the idea that these exotic commodities manage to make their way to my muddy corner of Devon, bringing the sunshine with them. 

Spice – quadrille for dVerse

It’s a bland day –
a day of mashed potato sky
and porridge coloured distances –

and yet these girls
have filled the kitchen
with a spice gold light –

they’re in there –
one ginger, one nutmeg,
vanilla skin and saffron eyes,
rustling cinnamon secrets…

 

 

Mish at dVerse has asked us for a quadrille – 44 words in any form that you can  manage – containing the word “spice”.