The Beckoning of Ginger #poetry

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I opened the cabinet looking for inspiration as the oats

softened in a boil of water. My eyes drawn

below to where the gnarled fingers of ginger reached

in beckoning.  Why not try it? I thought. It might be good

for the cold inside your chest.  Ginger with a bit of honey

and a sprinkle of cinnamon. And so I broke away a tip

an easy snap of the joint, and took blade

in hand to peel away the leathery skin

pungent yellow flesh perfumed the airways

and I breathed deep in gratitude for the juice

dripping through the grater. Finishing with a sharp

tap of the soft fibers that clung to the teeth

nothing would be wasted. The peel soon buried

to feed the children of earth

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