so I could understand how to
make stuffed mushrooms so plump and full,
and I could know the preciseness of the fresh pesto
that I saw you picking basil for-
kneeling in the soft, upturned soil, the green in each pluck.
I want to know about your carrot cake
that Dad loves so much.
The recipe written in your hand feels close
but not the same as your hand taking mine
over the mixing spoon.
I picture my children
watching me from their swingset,
on a breezy summer day,
as I pick vegetables in the garden,
and I look up at them, and at the sky,
my knees in the dirt.
Alexandra Ustach
2nd draft
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