It was just another
ordinary day—
mid-June,
maybe July.
I was ready to strangle
the summer heat.
I opened the fridge,
and an oasis of chilled air
greeted my senses,
like two long-lost friends
having a cuppa
and moaning about the heat—

Oh, I know, how dreadful.
Sitting there between
the Coca-Cola and
the red bell peppers
was a huge, round…
Thing.
I took it out,
rolled it around
the white-tiled kitchen floor.
A toy, perhaps?
No—
A wheel of cheese!
But not just any cheese.
This… (insert Godfather-style shaking of hand)
This was Gouda.
The snack of the gods.
As I cut into the wax,
a piquant aroma
tickled my nose.
I still remember
that first taste
with its creamy flesh exposed—
mild and nutty,
with a hint of Heaven.
My taste buds frolicked
in the euphoria brought on
by this tasty savior,
a lifeboat amidst a world of
dull delight.
My taste buds were unworthy
of such honor.
They bowed down before
the swirls of pasteurized
glory.

Nevertheless,
I resisted
the sharp temptation
to shove the whole wheel
in my mouth
like a hungry pig on steroids.
No, I decided to treasure
this gift,
for we usually don’t treasure
what may not be there
tomorrow—
like Civilization,
or black ink to print out your English homework.
Gouda is proof that God
loves us,
and I like love
more than most.

The moral
of my ode is this:
when a good thing
comes your way,
put it on a pedestal
and never forget its worth.
As for the products
Of the udder…
Now that’s
what I call a
tasty miracle.