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Pasta al Pesto Pamela Lee Delving into shallow crockery dishes, we twine hot, white strands On silver tines, Pushing against the oval bowls of spoons. The gray-green paste clumps, Refusing to cling. The crushed pignoli and garlic cloves, With Parmesan and olive oil, Resist melding with The outdoor chlorophyllic green Of basil and of parsley. Remember tamping the tender seedlings In the cool spring earth? And pinching off twin-leaves to foster growth, Gathering the convoluted parsley curls, and pleasant Basketfuls of basil Redolent of Italy? Cruel blades of Cuisinart prevailed: In an instant they Reduced a garden to this dollop. Now, faces bathed in steam, We behold, we savor, we consume Genesis to revelation.
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