Thursday, September 21, 2017

let peach begin with me

Meditating today on:
the last day of summer, the last of the peaches at the farmers' market...
on the deep relative peace that I and mine are enjoying while the rest of the world is falling apart, literally...
on the Golden Shovel poems crafted by Nikki Grimes in One Last Word.

Making Peace |  Denise Levertov

 A voice from the dark called out,
             ‘The poets must give us
imagination of peace, to oust the intense, familiar
imagination of disaster. Peace, not only
the absence of war.’
                                   But peace, like a poem,
is not there ahead of itself,
can’t be imagined before it is made,
can’t be known except
in the words of its making,
grammar of justice,
syntax of mutual aid....

Read the rest of Levertov's poem here. Here's my contribution.


We're making peach cobbler. The little ones can’t
reach the counter.  They have to be 
stood on a step-stool, their future height imagined.
With faith we hand over the knives. Before 
you know it there's a nick, some tears, a smudge of blood. It 
adds a touch of salt to the sweet fruit.  Peace is 
cobbled together by hand in a hot kitchen, home-made.

draft (c) HM 2017

The roundup this Poetry Friday is with Amy at The Poem Farm, where she has planted a whole crop of peace seeds...let the harvest begin!


  1. I hope your peach cobbler is as delicious as your poem. Nicely done.

  2. Their future height imagined. How lovely - and how wrong I would have been if I'd ever tried to imagine my son's future height. They have both exceeded it - and still growing! This is a delicious poem - sweet and sharp.

  3. Homemade peace! I love that... and have felt that sense of peace while in the kitchen. You've created such a vivid scene with your Golden Shovel. And I am still smiling over peach be with you. :)

  4. How lovely--and such rich connections. Peace, as well as peach cobbler, begins at home, one relationship at a time. Thank you for sharing the Levertov poem. It is powerful, too.

  5. Nice poem,peace is homemade. Sigh. And peaches!!

  6. So families are made, with fresh food, joint work, blood and tears. Lovely golden shovel.

  7. Nothing beats time in the kitchen and with's sublime time. Love your golden shovel poem! Wish I could drop by for some peach (peace) cobbler.

  8. The first line of your post made me laugh (terrible pun! I love terrible puns.) But your poem had me crying. I can picture this family.

  9. Love the transformation that is your golden shovel, especially the final line. Nothing like cooking with little ones to cobble together a family (fortunately, peach cobbler can be imagined. I am imagining it right now!)

  10. Heidi, I love your golden shovel. Faith, tears, fixing the boo boos....all on a very, very large scale. Thanks for writing it. I have to say, your title gives a good giggle. Cobbling peach at a time.

  11. The visceral turn, while thinking of folks waging peace in hard places, really got to me, Heidi! Of course you would write a golden Golden Shovel poem. Thanks for sharing. (& pass a piece of cobbler, please?)

  12. This poem so warmly welcomes our hearts into your kitchen. I love "their future height imagined." So true to our experience with children. A future is there waiting while we make peach cobbler.

  13. Oh sweet! I have felt the same, almost guilt, when watching the news of the world in contrast to my peaceful, ordered world, my tidy, everything-I-need kitchen. I love these lines for their sense of helpfulness and cooperation:
    "The little ones can’t
    reach the counter. They have to be
    stood on a step-stool..."
    But the whole thing gives me shivers of goodness!

  14. This last line
    "Peace is
    cobbled together by hand in a hot kitchen, home-made."
    rings of emotion, empathy, and peace!

    I like the parallel you created between this idea/line Peace and a poem "can't be imagined before it is made" and your line, "They have to be
    stood on a step-stool, their future height imagined.

    Thanks for this poignant poem, sharing both sweetness and pain, and Denise Levertov's, "Making Peace."

  15. Oh, gosh. So true and gorgeous, Heidi. I fell in love with that line in Levertov's poem and then to read it in yours...and to see what you did with it. Just love. (We have a family pesto making story that ended with a bit of only a story, home-made.) Peace. x

  16. "Peace is/cobbled together by hand in a hot kitchen, home-made." I love every bit of this post, Heidi. Your poem is beautiful and true. Now I want to create a golden shovel and make peach cobbler! Thank you for sharing your loving heart and for inspiring me!