BY LISA WILEY
— at the lake house
Five avocados wait on the sill,
a little conspiracy ripening,
as I wonder who they’re for.
Our host faces the sink,
goes to work while we sandwich.
And I still don’t realize what he’s up to
until he presents the gleaming glop —
emerald mix of mashed meat,
jalapenos, ruby onions, cilantro —
to our porch table overlooking the lake
where we two couples converse
about nothing and everything
all at once as the children interrupt a board game
to scoop up this delicious paste.
These enchanted moments
before the bowl is scraped clean.