Raymond A. Foss Poems

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The house awash in the smell
of last night’s dinner,
now the stuff of soup,
the simmering bones
of the whole chicken,
bubbling away
yielding to the heat,
the relentlessness
of the boiling broth,
permeating the air
the succulent nectar
enticing the pallet
can’t wait to add the
ingredients, to make the soup
warm for a fall afternoon

October 2, 2007 2:03pm

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