with thin pink skins

barely cooked then cooled

cut up bite-sized

tossed together in a bowl

with

purple-white slivers

of crescent moon’d onions

tender green beans

fresh-picked snapped quick

in halves 

seasoned, kept cold 

for a summer day

crunch inside my head

feed me body and soul

as I chew drifting

on a daydream

to her hands

preparing with care

my mid-day meal

to her words

reminding me the many 

small potatoes we encounter

every day.

Treat them as such we say

pass them by 

with a knowing nod

remembering

they are only there

to help us measure

what matters most.