Pinto Beans

 

I learned to cook

From mi abuela

 

The squeaky wheel

Ran loud

 

As ten pounds of beans

Jumped in the cart

 

“ Not every frijole is

A good frijole”

She murmured

 

While we sifted

Through every pound

 

Fresh vegetables

Filled the air

 

The aroma of

Cebollas  

Spreads from

Room to room

 

As the sound

Of her voice fades

Farther and farther away

 

I understand these

Recipes are here to

Stay.