Musings in a Grocery Store

One thing I'm enjoying a lot: looking around me when I'm with a friend and we pick out something we see and start a prose poem with the same first line. Here's one.

The boxes stacked high in the grocery store are eye-level from the upstairs tables. Rows of peanut butter, cereals, crackers, chips, cocoa, soups, rice, pasta. Processed food every direction I face. It feeds us, pleases our taste buds, calls us to the table, to family and friends. The boxes from this high spot suggest factories, automation, abundance.

The produce has a different pull. I see sun and rain and ready-to-eat. The produce in my work life shows itself in grins of recognition, aha's, ease. The boxes are tasks that are necessary, not fun.What conscious rain and sun could bring a harvest or peace and satisfaction to the work in front of me?

I don't know yet. But I believe I'll find out.Moreah Vestan Nov. 2009