Korovka cookies–the ones with the chocolate siding
the only kind you can eat and still never have enough
delight, alight thoughts of a summer spent
drinking hot tea on hot days
our bitten fingers around a grateful cup,
overflowing with the sun’s rays
sweat, drowning mosquitos.
we share the
kr-kr-kr-kr-krrrr-shhhh
the hind legs of a grasshopper
through the brush
the buzz of blackflies
a leaded, dense weight
little cannonballs fluttering in the sky
and the k-k-k-tsss-ts-k-shh-ts-k
of the flame under the teapot
silver smoke, iron, ash, sugar
smells sweetened by nostalgia
stirred by our spoons
compote, compositions
the portrait of a memory long gone
shared in passing.

The taste is gone.