Poems

little potatoes

Little potatoes

their skin black

flesh

smooth and creamy

I got them at the

farmer’s market

in St. Catharine’s

before the grim

and dreary weather

set in

like a grey blanket

November is a month

where nothing

much happens.

It was a bleak afternoon.

Those boiled potatoes

were so sweet

covered in butter

Hilary Shantz, November 14, 2017

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