In Tucson, like so many other places, autumn is a time of food, harvest, and abundance. The annual Tucson Meet Yourself Folklife Festival, which took place this past weekend, is a celebration of global and local foodways--O'odham frybread tacos and Sonoran-style tortillas are sold alongside Colombian arepas, Ukrainian borscht, and handpulled Turkish ice cream. At La Estrella, one of Tucson's beloved Mexican bakeries, the counters are piled high with colorful, sugar-dusted pan de muerto. And southern Arizona's growers are busy harvesting squash, corn, okra, and hot peppers for Tucson's farmer's markets. In celebration of this tasty time of year, we thought we'd share three food-related poems from Light Comes Down As Glitter, last year's Writing the Community anthology. Enjoy!
Ode a my Pastelito
My mom
made me a
pie.
A delicious
apple pie
topped with
whipped cream
as fluffy as
clouds.
Encima tenía
hoyos.
Hoyos profundos
y deliciosos
como deliciosidad
en infinidad.
The top design
was criss-crossed
like waffles
on top of my
pie.
I bit into
it and I felt like I died
from deliciousness.
And the moral is,
ni siquiera mucha
crema batida,
or if it had
a million
holes, or
a bunch of
waffles on
top
of my
pie,
or how much
deliciousness through
infinity,
no pie
is better
than
my mom’s
apple
pie.
-Xristian Berry, 5th grade
The Small Food Market
It’s an outdoor Mexican or
any nationality food market.
There are all types of
fruits, veggies, and many
more cool stuff.
There are probably a lot of people buying meat,
bread and fruits.
It probably smells
like heaven and
maybe it also smells
like islands, sea, and jungles.
It’s probably filled with
lots and lots of
good, juicy, and yummy fruits.
It may be small and
very old.
If I were there I wouldn’t
be able to stay because
I will probably eat all the fruits.
- Andres Betancourt, 5th Grade
Garden Poem
The lemons are peas.
Lemons are
a tree.
Tree branch as
rose’s stem.
Hear the leaves rustling in
the wind.
Hear the bells making
sound
music.
Plants smell as fresh as a
day.
Spinach feels as a
hand.
Chard feels like
lemon tastes sour.
-Kamila Hurtodo, 5th Grade