Dill

While they weigh my vegetables
and fruit,  I ask the farmer and his wife
about their favorite way of  cooking 
chard or kale or leeks— He says
saute in butter, she says stir-fry. 
Around their tent in the church 
parking lot, the line is always long. 
Beautiful beets, ruffled lettuce, garlic 
large as a baby's fist. Later at home, 
I breathe in the greeny fronds of dill 
and set them into a glass of water. 
It makes a little oasis of scent, finds 
a way in through fortresses we've buit 
of words and silences and things.