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Poem: Whatever became of parsley?

Whatever became of parsley? although, it was ever so rare, to be off the hook and not have to cook, I’d “eat-out” at most anywhere! To be “waited on,” til the food was all gone was living in sheer luxury — without jumping up to refill a cup or set salad, or ketchup, or pie on. Sure to be seen was that wee sprig of green that added such charm to the plate. You saved it ‘til last – that small touch of class whose attributes I did appreciate. It cleansed the palate; it freshened the breath. A most helpful garnish indeed!

SNOW!: A poem by Buckshot Dot

Roundup’s readers. Snow! Calming, cold, comforting snow — Gently caressing, bringing the blessing of moisture to earth. Aye, such a great blessing. Snow! Now lashing and slashing outside my window. Such wind! Portent of shoveling, patiently shoving my shovel along sidewalk and street. Ice under feet. Work risky, air brisky making this soul feel suddenly frisky. This old heart has just skipped a beat. Snow! Once again gently dancing, flakes seem to be prancing on air. A promise of peace, Oh! Let it not cease ’til winter’s soft hush (despite mushy slush) “Buckshot Dot”© 2021

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