Monday, March 01, 2021

Artisans (1530--2021)

Sunshine go away today, I don't feel much like dancing

Until I heard an ad for "small-batch pork rinds."

How much does it cost? I'll buy it!

Artisans died today. 

I thought they died with artisan bagels, but I was wrong. A tiny flame still flickered for weavers and carpenters, for glassblowers and blacksmiths. 

Even, for a time, the humble cheesemaker. Or a chocolatier.

That tiny artisan flame lived in my heart, and I fed it scraps of locally sourced wood chips and farm to table salad greens, and I thought that someday, it would burn brightly again. 

Then the small-batch pork rinds came, and the flame extinguished. 

It burns in me no more.

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