Stewing a chicken is not about
the individual ingredients–
on tasting the finished product
no one says,
‘oh, that is delicious rosemary’

nor is the humble celery spoken of
at dinner table
dipping delectable dinner rolls
into the gravy
though without it
chicken would be the less

Carrot and onion marry and dance
but are never seen on the plate–
does anyone hear the garlic complain
lurking unseen in the essence
of the graceful flavour?

Even the hen, the
crown jewel of the pot
is ripped to shreds
its bones boiled dry, and
every drop of flavour is extracted
for the succulent sauce

and the people sit and partake
of fulfilling food and conversation, whilst
storytelling with smiles
as condiment, and
rich gravy of friendship
over all

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