The Cookout Poem by Eddie Roa

They were doing barbecue in the patio
The warm noonday breeze wafted the aroma
Of steaks, broiled potatoes-in-skin pressing through
Screen doors, settling in the hems of curtains
The savory smell of burnt fat of t-bone edges
Hovered tantalizingly despite the gusty breeze

A sudden downpour sent the cook scampering for cover
Upsetting the heavy grating, scattering the smoldering
Embers hissing a sizzle upon the touch of cold rain
Half cooked choice cuts and potatoes hardly browned
Yanked out of the fire into a tatty wicker tray
And sent hurriedly to the table on the covered porch

A few steak cuts fell on the grassy floor
And the hissing meat hastily picked up by tongs
Find themselves back on the smoking grid
Purged clean by the glowing red hot coals
And with the foliage of celery sprigs and salad greens
Voila! A magnificent filet seared to perfection

The rain shower went without abatement
Guests in wide umbrellas soon came
Tramping on mud puddles and dried leaves
Glad to have come and partake of fine dining
Toasting the chef for a commendable fare
A wonderful steak offering fit for a king