| Still drizzling. Gray religious gloom seeps in through the window, the dim lantern creaks on its hook. I’m humming to myself, stirring lentil soup. The ark fills with a homey aroma.I’ve preserved the doctrine of spices, the commandments of barley and beans. Noah said, “We’ll just catch fish.” I smiled. And remembered to take cucumber seeds, to plant, in a new world, a garden.  |
 There’s my sack of almonds, here my dried figs and dates. After all I was the one who’d asked, “Sweetheart, shouldn’t we be prepared?”And kept him awake with my dream of salvation in a houseboat, plied him with reasons, sulks, his favorite honey cake. And got what I wanted: three stories of gopher wood – a large ark is easier to keep clean.The animals we took on board? My cow, “Patchy,” and his fancy doves; two donkeys, two little black goats, the family’s cats and dogs, and the grandchildren’s pet turtle. Legends grow. Legends grow into myths. |
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