Haiku Kitchen

I wrote my ode to blu tack before I knew about the Haiku Diaries. In this daily blog two authors, Rachel Dickinson and Jenna Schnuer, write about their lives, and readers post comments — all in haiku. I normally don’t like poetry, but there’s something so unpretentious and authentic about this simple literary form I find myself dropping by when I’m procrastinating or uninspired.

While Iron Chef competitions send the culinary big wigs darting about the kitchen like frantic bumble bees, the home galley can be a zen retreat. The rhythm of chopping vegetables, the steady chug of the dishwasher, the soothing sound of soup bubbling away. And the measured kneading of homemade bread can induce a trance-like state bordering on enlightenment. A potential haiku in every dish.

When approached with tranquility, my morning fruit becomes berry bliss. I feel calm just looking at this photo. I can’t imagine shattering the serenity with a mad dash to the finish line.

Breakfast for a Nighthawk

A bowl of berries
Smoothes the edges of morning.
Bed no longer calls.

Blueberry photo by atul666 , printed under Creative Commons License.