At the Silarian Café
We had dinner in that State of Mind
where the Sun rises over Albany.
The patio rimmed by sugar maples
was lit by garnet party lights
the garden fragrant
with lilac & rose bushes
bluebirds in the branches
ladybugs walking on the leaves
finding their own dinner.
In the stream a pile of sticks
a beaver’s starter home
a snapping turtle in the mud.
Over apple cider martinis
we peruse the menu, fresh caught
stuffed brook trout, local greens
angler’s fish stew with striped bass
bay scallops in butter, garlic, white wine.
For dessert fresh apples, muffins
in cinnamon laced milk
as the sun sets in Buffalo.
[This poem won 3rd place in the 2017 New York State Fair Poetry Competition — like being the 3rd best heifer or melon or something. Each of the plants, animals, fish, etc. are New York States’ symbols — even a fossil, which is not named but is from the Silarian age.]