Fuel for Creativity
If I bade them,

“bring the fattened calf,”

a baby cow would have

laid before us, chopped

to perfection — marinade

wafting across the table,

meeting our conversation

in the middle.

The cold air shifting outside,

still sitting in our bones,

filling our blood with

its intensity.

biscuits pop up out of

nowhere begging for

butter and organic jam.

Spoons clank, forks chirp

and whistle, the sound of

coffee being slurped by

a dozen lips—

peace in the midst of turmoil

turns into art.

We sit back,

our proverbial burdens

laid down, jumping from one

shoulder to the next,

crooning about what Writers need

when all we needed at that

moment was fuel

for creativity.
['Tre L. Loadholt']
['Conversations', 'Poetry', 'Food', 'North Carolina', 'A Cornered Gurl']