An aroma of pork and milk
escaping through creased skin
emanating from the lines in her face
smile lines
simple, honest smile lines
releasing the luxurious scent
of a simple peasant.

Dancing behind her skin
a pair of emerald eyes
revealing a heart
empty and overflowing
searching for a place to give.

And I was that place
a traveller, a foreigner
passing through
tired, sore and hungry
and needing nourishment.

A village breakfast
sausage and eggs,
black bread, tomato,
cheese, cucumber and honey.
Coffee, strong, rich,
long black tar.

This is the soul
of a village farming wife
good food
strong coffee
for simple folk.

Seeing my weariness
feeling my tiredness
she gave me
stuffed in sweating plastic
a village lunch.

A single glistening tomato
heavy black bread
and couched in between
was one and a half inches
of delicious
artery clogging
pork fat.

The generosity of a peasant
an outlandish gift
fat on my bones
for another hard
and hot day
on the road.

~8th Place Editor’s Choice Award

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