Returning, Decades Later, to Dr. Bronner’s Peppermint Castille Soap

Sunil Freeman

It hits the cupped water that fills and bubbles to almost
running over, and the bored and sullen morning air wakes
with a start as it remembers, “This is what I do best,”
and goes happy so fast it Hallelujahs a gospel of peppermint
to the room, which sings it for all the world, All One, All One.
And once again it is, as always, the first day of the rest
of my life. Cleanliness Is Godliness. Peppermint air
pulls me, fast, back to 1973, a food coop, herb shop,
basswood honey, carob macaroons, soy flour,
Morning Thunder, and Recipes for a Small Planet.
The air is sweet with unironic patchouli, a joy
we’ll never again have. Hot Tuna is on the turntable.
Jorma plucks forth bittersweet happiness in some minor key.
Jack lays down the ground for this long gone day to drift on.

 

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