Saturday in Maine

It’s Saturday morning, the dried beans slip through,

My fingers search for small stones,

We grew up on Saturday night beans

Swimming in a blend of molasses and spices,

Red hot dogs snapping with each bite.

On Saturday night

The double decker percolator bubbled

Coffee

Strong

Black,

Plates filled with

Saturday night beans,

Lawrence Welk on a snowy screen

Waltzing with an old robust woman,

Her lipstick smiles back.

The house captures the smell,

And the tradition,

Our plates filled with

Saturday night beans,

Pandora rocks

As we dance in embrace

And both smile

As we remember both growing up

In Maine.