Feast by Jane Edna Mohler


I love the fat of summer, flabby
green weeks when weeds lap

over the vague rims of back
roads, just as batter overtakes

a griddle. Poplar leaves wave
wide as cows’ tongues slurping

syrup-thick air. Here, summer spits
when it talks, gulps cold milk

and wipes a hand across its mouth.
I want to stuff myself full

with warm fields, hills tender
and round as yeast rolls bathed

in butter. Oh to scoop the ooze
of June’s soft eggs, consume

this season, lick its juices, chew
salty bacon days.


Jane Edna Mohler is a Bucks County Poet Laureate Emeritus (Pennsylvania). She won second place in the 2023 Crossroads Contest. Recent publications include Gargoyle, River Heron Review, and New Verse News. Her collection Broken Umbrellas was published by Kelsay. She is the Poetry Editor of the Schuylkill Valley Journal. www.janeednamohler.com

12 thoughts on “Feast by Jane Edna Mohler

  1. So visceral; imaging feeling cold milk in my hot mouth, riding on crickety backroads and sucking clover stems for sweetness. You have enveloped us in the cloak of summer.

  2. Luscious! I can feel the salty heat of summer as I read this indoors, and I want to wrap my arms around all of the images.

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