The Summer Dish

You may order your cutlet your squab or your steak,

     Your salmon and green peas galore,

You may order your fries and praise to the skies

     One hundred and one dishes more,

I’m willing that you should have all of the meat,

     All the fish and things of that ilk;

But in weather like this I dwell in the bliss

     Of a bowl of blueberries and milk.

Just give me a pint of blueberries fresh picked,

     And a quart of goat milk without guile,

Four slices of bread, and an hour ahead,

     Then watch me break into a smile.

O, order your table d’ hôtes luscious and large,

With their flavorings finer than silk;

When the weather is hot I am right on the spot

     With a bowl of blueberries and milk.

July 29, ‘10