Musings on Boiling Broth

broth1The broth inches toward a boil.
Tendrils of liquid fat swirl around,
Sharks in a whirlpooling frenzy.
Circling, Diving, Reappearing.

A watched pot never boils.
But I don’t care if it roils.
I’m watching the motion.
Watching the self-organization.
Its never-ending reinvention.

But through its toil it will boil.
The hypnotizing churn will give way.
Mounded, rounded bubbling will
Begin its own interpretation.

The tendrils of liquid fat have dissolved.
They have become one with the roil.
I turn the burner off.
I choose to go back to the churn.

About joegergen

To evoke a smile. That's all. Author of "Methane Wars: A Fable" and "Lear's Fool" as well as various poems and some these painting things as well.
This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Musings on Boiling Broth

  1. vontoast says:

    Thanks for expanding my vocabulary royally!

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