Sara’s Writing

Draft 1

This is our way,
A precise script of action,
Orderly and accurate,
On step after another.

It’s all unspoken
The tango we dance
Around the fire.
Dad, barefoot,
Takes the greater risk.
His uniform is variations on the same theme:
Paint tattered shirt (or shirtless)
Chewed cigar
The Paella hat.
Vino (in bottle or glass)
All necessary for this perfect dance.

We both play our parts,
Our practice evident
Yet the pace harried.
In and out the ingredients fly,
changing by the recipe-
mountain or port paella.
Calamari- in and out
Shrimp- in and out
Chicken or pork flash the pan.
Rosemary scents the flames,
Garlic coats the oil and onions.

We move as necessary
Adjusting the fire, the pit, the pan.
Each ingredient layers flavors
with the others.

Paella, however became the answer.
Realization hit me one day,
Between the olive oil and saffron.
This is our way

Oh, we’ve had our flubs-
A sandy paella or two
But we’ve learned-
Jim and his Rita.

Draft 2

On making paella

There’s an unspoken rhythm
to the tango we dance around the fire.
He leads, I follow-
Our practice evident ,
the tempo rapid.
Dad, barefoot,
takes the greater risk.
His tattered shirt (optional)
flutters in the fire’s waves of heat.
In and out the ingredients fly,
changing by the recipe-
mountain or port paella.
His frayed paella hat
shades his eyes from the setting sun.
The calamari enters and exits.
A splash of wine hits the throat
Shrimp- in and out
A cigar slowly burns from the edge of the tray
Chicken and pork flash the pan.
Another swig of wine
as rosemary scents the flames
and garlic coats the oil and onions.

We move as necessary
Adjusting the fire, the pit, the pan.
Each ingredient waltzes
among the others.
Our dance continues
between the olive oil and saffron.

Oh, we’ve had our flubs-
A sandy paella or two
But we’ve learned-
Jim and his Rita