A Crawfish Boil (11.17.12)

A Crawfish Boil
(11.17.12)

Two white tents,
Set atop their posts,
Shade merry faces,
And their happy hosts.

Three long tables,
Together as one,
Support ice cold drinks,
‘Til cooking is done.

One large pot,
Set off in the yard,
Filled with hose water,
By one cheery bard.

The mesh sacks,
Emptied in a tin,
Oh, how they splash about,
Let salting begin!

Water boils,
And soon it is time,
To dunk the crawfish,
While they’re in their prime.

Minutes pass,
And during our fun, 
The shells have turned red,
The crawfish are done!

They are lifted,
And so do we rise,
Watching them brought forth,
From their own demise.

They are dumped,
Then spread out by guests,
Searching through mudbugs,
The largest, their quest.

Potatoes,
Garlic flavorings,
Mushrooms and onions,
Spicy seasonings.

Red hotdogs,
Amongst all the corn,
Hiding with green beans,
But none are forlorn.

Memories,
I’m glad they are mine,
Of carefree faces,
All standing in line.

Together,
We share a great meal,
Enjoy the outdoors,
‘Til the ending peal.