A.G.E's Joint

When I was a little, my mother would make Red Rice. It is a humble dish, adapted from the Gullah settlers during the depression.  It's combination of leftover meat and vegetables was designed to fill bellies with low cost.  But even to this day, I equate this dish with weekday dinner. It didn't matter what Mom's sobriety level was that night, she never would mess this recipe up.  And I would eat until my heart's content.  When I was in college, my own ability to make this dish earned me more than one couch to stay on. But now, I rarely get to eat it. My wife and kids hate onions and bell peppers. I need to take a vacation. So, I can eat it again.   Savannah Red Rice

Here we are Alone. Meeting after so many years Why so long? I speak to my friends In this new-fangled online market, I have not set foot here in years It's a lonely, lovely place, I know. Children scattered To the four winds. Not knowing whether  they are alive. Now I come to see you A Sphinx. Not sure why. Maybe to bask in the silence Of the relatives I never knew, And the few I did.   Austen said To look upon verdure was the greatest refreshment. But the oaks and moss Only remind me  Of past time wasted, Time was supposed to explain. Ain't no use complainin' Time to move on.