Rice

Cooking Basmati Rice Whilst Contemplating – by me

.

Clear; two fuzzy yellow’d circles touch the top

Of the clear—but below it’s foggy.

Cloudy, soon, as the fog rises

Out of what had been fog:

Now it’s just hay-ground.

.

Soon—too soon, almost, to watch the change—

It’s all cloud.

But the yellows—the fuzzy circles—

Have multiplied.  Not two, now, but many;

Not fuzzy, now, but clear.

Windows down to the hay-ground.

.

The windows multiply—never ceasing, never slowing.

Funny how they swapped with the surrounding:

The former, cloudy coming clear;

The latter, clear till rising fog blocks out all sight

Except through new-made windows.

.

But I have been distracted.

The hay-ground has risen

(Or else the clouds have fallen)

And covered up (or met) it all.

I must turn down the heat—for the water level’s low—

Or else the rice will be dry or burnt.

.

.

Apparently this is what comes of cooking rice after reading C. S. Lewis’ Till We Have Faces, which is a splendid book.  Lewis always casts me deep into thought.

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