Poetry By
Evan Abla
Published on: 10/22/2008
The Canning of Apple Butter
The canning pot, too big for such a small stove, held boiling water and awaited the jars of apple butter, with a hunger only a canning pot could have. I burned my hands, but not badly enough to stop altogether, twisting the bands tightly around jar and lid. As the tiny, one person kitchen warms from the canning pot steam, the air expands and while stuffy there is still room enough for the both of us. As it cools, when the canning of apple butter is finished, there may not be even enough room for me.
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