We Couldn’t Find Spinach Anywhere Poem by Gert Strydom

We couldn’t find spinach anywhere,
not at the Fruit and Veg
or other green grocers
or even at chain stores
like Pick-a-Pay, Checkers,
Shoprite and Woolworths.

“It must be out of season, ”
I told my darling
who had returned the green beans
and so we didn’t have
any green vegetables
and joking I told her
that we will get scurvy.

Passing a traffic light
in the inner city
she saw a hawker
selling vegetables
with packets and packets of spinach.

She told me to stop
and I parked next
to the road
across from him,
but before I could get out
of the car
he was already there
with a selection
of vegetables
at great prices.

That night my darling
prepared her special dish
with chicken, spinach
and feta cheese
fried in a great sauce
and served it with a bottle
of St. Anna wine
and my thoughts went to
the little smiling hawker
who made our day.