Whenever I feel ill at ease
I gain great solace eating cheese.
Its flavor, either mild or sharp
Revives the soul and mends the heart.
A slice of Swiss upon my plate
With holes to sit and contemplate
Can stimulate my intellect
And make me feel less circumspect.
A cheddar with a sharpened taste,
May raise sat-fat and thicken waist,
But it can make me feel most fit
When warmed with beer and called Rarebit.
A heated Brie may help control
The dark malaise within my soul,
(But I make sure it comes from France
to never leave the cure to chance.)
To find my way as artisan
I may partake of parmesan,
If grated or cut in a sliver
My Muse creates and I deliver!
But not until I reach my dotage
Will I ingest the cheese called Cottage!

Posted with kind permission of the author.

This ode was among more than 100 responses to our invitation to write an ode to an “ordinary thing.” We share it here with delight and gratitude.


Poetry