Outside my window, a blizzard is howling. What better way to spend a snowy Pi day than thinking of warm, luscious pies? Baking apple pies with my grandmother is one of my favorite memories. So here is a Pi poem (literally; the number of words in each line correspond to the digits in Pi; read more about the form here). I didn’t follow the rules exactly, but every poet and pie maker knows that it’s okay to be flexible about some ingredients.
Juicy, red apples
coated with sugar, cinnamon,
Topped with dollops of butter
and a dash of salt; layered and sealed into
pie plate, blue with fluted edges.
Ready to bake, magically transform
into sweet memories.
© Catherine Flynn, 2017
You can read last year’s Pi poem here.
Thank you to Stacey, Betsy, Beth, Kathleen, Deb, Melanie, Lisa and Lanny for creating this community and providing this space for teachers and others to share their stories every day in March and on Tuesdays throughout the year. Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers to read more Slice of Life posts.