Donna Hilbert, Poetry and Pleasure

I'll take a book, with a little butter on the side, please!

Years ago, while having dinner in a restaurant with my husband during a particularly happy and peaceful time in our lives, I took a warm sourdough roll from the breadbasket and had this thought: butter.  The only thing standing between perfect happiness and me at that particular moment was butter. I had given it up on some misguided diet plan of my own devising that emphasized prohibition rather than moderation. I broke the roll into two pieces and slathered the insides with butter.  I have never looked back.  I admit I have a hedonistic streak; I take my pleasures seriously.  Butter, good wine, ice cream, sitting in the sun with a terrific book of poems, spending time with friends.  I also love to attend poetry readings when I am pretty certain that the poets will be excellent and the venue friendly and comfortable.

I will indulge my poetry pleasure at Gatsby Books on Wednesday night at 7:00 PM to hear the wonderful John Brantingham along with an open reading that, if history is a predictor, will be excellent.  Regina Nervo, the very talented author of today’s poem, “Butter,” will participate in the open segment, reading a piece from Horizon’s Pocket, her just-published book.  I am full of superlatives today, but please, indulge me, for what I love, I love.

Butter

The best thing about butter

is the way it melts

on a hotcake or a new slice of toast.

How it lingers on the palate

sour, salty, creamy,

Bold and grassy.

How it burns brown.

And before its factory days

butter was churned

by women with strength

with stamina

with thighs and arms.

How desirable she was

with her winter butter

hard and slow to soften.

How magical she was in summer

with her sweet and yellow butter

perfect for the baker

edgy and acidic.

From “Horizon’s Pocket” by Regina Nervo (www.worldparadebooks.com) available on www.Amazon.com