spice.

It was a blistering day. As in, you'll get blisters from the sun if you stay outside too long. She had to work, serving others. She was glad to get out of the house, but she would have rather been getting out of the house to see a movie, say, or to fetch ice cream. Lovely suggestions that weren't the case.

Tables are labeled with names and given the term 'section'. Hers lay mostly outside. There were few tables in. Her inner few had been placed near the door, within reach of the suns rays; the people turned away. "Here?" the hostess would motion. The guests shook their head, squinted their eyes, and asked for something away from the sun. The consequences of this scene made her fidget. She threatened to poke her eyes with the baked rosemary that had fallen from the bread. While waiting she wrote,

Rosemary in my Eye.

The sun shone brightly

upon the tables.

To the birds, it was beautiful.

And to the flies, too.

To Meredith, it was a horrid sight.

She stood and stared

at the brightness,

embracing the boredom

surrounding her.

She ate more bread.

the people. they were

afraid that the sun

would melt their

skin, like the wax

of a burning candle.

And then the sun went down. More came, and requested to sit outside. She was full of busy. Her fidgets were replaced with flusters, and she paid no more attention to the rosemary.