The Butcher of Leschi Lives!

March 21, 2020

Our little local grocery in Leschi, Seattle

Lost its butcher last night. Quick.

Only a few days ago, from the woman behind the counter,

"Can you wait? He'll be back in half an hour."

I don't know if he came back that day. I didn’t wait.

For two days, the shop was closed for disinfection.

Someone there had been exposed.

Very likely, our household had been exposed.

Now, my daughter will not let me enter that sweet grocery space.

I must wait outside, behind my mask. Not on my usual bench.

That's all taken up with bundles of flowers,

Simple stuff from people's gardens,

Shoved artlessly into mason jars and coffee cans.

Forsythia and wild roses and local blooms I cannot name,

All over and around my usual bench.

I go to a picnic table at the edge of the park

And take phone camera pictures of the flower bench,

And the neighbors who come to it and stop,

And draw in a breath, and turn away to look at the lake

When they see that I can see that

Losing a butcher

Is no small thing

In Leschi.

April 21

I stopped by the Butcher’s Bench today.

Remnants of posies there, still.

And a few vibrant roses.

Draped over the back of the bench,

A string of the tiniest daisies woven

Recently enough

That they were soft in my fingers.

April 26

The wind has whipped the petals from the tulips

The coffee can is on its side, wilted brown somethings

Spill over the sidewalk in front of the bench.

Someone has wound vivid plastic flowers

In and out the wooden planks

That face the lake.

The faded daisy chain is smaller, now

And far less supple.

Only one of the containers holds lively flowers;

It’s tipped over, too, from the wind.

I set it upright against the wrought iron leg of the bench

And arrange its alstromeria.

I like it there,

A sign

Of how good it is

To remember.

April Fool’s Day, 2021

I came home to Albany

At the end of May last year

And let Covid swallow

All but my robust health,

Though missing some spirit

I’d known before

The Butcher died in Leschi.

The Month of June, 2024, Three Years Later

The little grocery now offers its own special wine

The label shows a picture of George, the Butcher of Leschi

Arms spread wide, like wings

He’s holding a string of his homemade sausages

They taste really good,

With a bottle of Butcher’s Robust Red.