I go the extra mile
to make chicken pie
for supper. While
the incumbent hen
stews, steaming savory
flesh and bones,
with enough thyme
and peppercorns, I
ceremoniously sauté two
primary livers, consider
simplicity, how I like things
explained in words of one
syllable, then pour a fresh
glass of Chianti, dip each
bite, wide, in a puddle
of democratic ketchup,
raise the wine high,
toasting the fowl
and my economy.
Tess Kincaid
Posted over on her site Willow Manor
Listed as #2 over on Magpie Tales 39
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