It took two hundred astronomers
with telescopes scattered over the world
to photograph the now famous BLACK HOLE.
Their fete will be long remembered
in the annals of astronomical history.
I who read about it on a newspaper’s front page
may think about it every once in awhile.
My recollections are likely to grow dim.
But there are holes I will never forget until my dying day:
MY GRANDMA’S DONUT HOLES
crafted by her for me in the 1930’s.
She’d create a mass of dough
from flour and other things sprinkled in.
She’d pound it flat on an enamel top
and then with a donut cutter
she pushed and twisted ’til she had what she wanted.
Meanwhile, a black pot filled with grease
bubbled at her side.
Picking up the centers made by the cutter
she’d drop them into the pot.
THERE THEY BECAME DONUT HOLES.
We’d watch those holes get rounder and brown.
The moment came for her to ladle them out
and place them side by side on what I don’t recall.
She warned me to wait for the cooling
but it didn’t take long for me to test the tasty creations.
Though I didn’t know it at the time
indelible memories were being created —
ones that I taste every now and then.
Russ Peery April 2019