Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
Moonpies on Mars God sure had a sense of humor, fortunately Steff did too. The plastic trees cast little shade on his home away from home on Fuzhou1 Square. Steff had been born in Center City. The plastic flowers did brighten up the place but why had they bothered? Plastic had no soul. The Ancient Spirits of this place laughed at this intrusion of fake death and fake life. Steff could feel their rumbles through the rock. Lots of rocks. Mostly silent. Steff walked to the garden. Maintained by recycling water, recessed into the rock to provide shelter and warmth, glassed to catch the meagre sunlight, laid out in four sections, the walkways a cross, it provided food for the body and soul. Not much food... there was a ban on almost all imports so only a few lived in Xiaolongbao2 Garden. Exactly 97; 100 was the limit. What to gather, what to prepare as a surprise for the guests? Steff had taken out the Bible of Mars Cooking, 3rd edition. Steff was 4th generation Martian. No urge to travel to that blue marble in the sky where his body would be crushed. He had gone deep into the caverns to feel the pressure... once. Once was enough. Perhaps moringa3 and some carob4. He had some hardtack he could crumble into crumbs. Maybe use zefir5 instead of marshmallow. Both were expensive. But moonpies6... that would be a surprise! Mars' moons didn't inspire Steff but the tales of Blue Marble's companion did. Plus, the guests were traveling from there. Steff looked out at the blue coin setting in a purple sky behind the jagged red rocks known as Xi's Hairdo. The guests would be here tomorrow. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.51] (31 juli.2022) Inspired by Lazy Writer est 4/24/2008 [Write an entry using these words: cross, God, Bible, tree, Spirit, garden, and sky.] Footnotes |