Sonnet to the Potluck*

Misty remembrance, close beyond my mind’s sight

The groaning table spread with mismatched plates

Lovingly secured by armor so bright

And underneath, the artists’ names on tape.

Nary bag of plastic nor crinkling film found

Just Tupperware, Anchor and Pyrex well used

To transport the salads, the morsels so browned

Provisions designed to keep the gathered amused.

And when the signal finally given and the steel pulled away

The congregants descend upon bounty piled high

Ne’er again to experience this selfsame array

Of masterpieces forged through years and try.

I know we’re all busy, the lifestyle’s to blame

But a grocery store salad is just not the same.

* Where I’m from, it’s called a “Covered Dish”