Set on the table,
Seven S’s
to symbolize Id Nouruz,
Persian New Year:
Seer, Sekkeh, Somakh,
Seeb, Sheerini, Sabzi, Serkeh
garlic, gold coins, dried berries,
apples, sweetmeats, sprouted wheat, vinegar.
My aunt completes the sofreh
with a silver framed mirror, goldfish in a bowl,
hyacinths and an old Koran.
The first day of Spring,
the first day of the year.
I ran in the morning,
cedar trail fragrant with rain.
The sun peeped through the persistent clouds;
another day of hide and seek.
Red tulips I planted in winter
shoot up outside the window.
The yard is a colorful spring story
waiting to be told.
We sit at the table
after calling our family in Tehran,
voices echoing over the poor connection.
For lunch:
rice made with green herbs,
white fish seasoned with saffron,
and red tea in clear glasses.
My aunt, two cousins and me,
silent,
but for clinking forks
and Iranian pop music.
