A Civil War Letter to Kale
My Dearest Kale,
The nights are growing colder, and the first scents of woodsmoke fill this mountain abode, and it is you that keeps me marching strong. My beloved, for your bountiful curves and succulent nature, it imbibes me with the most pleasant of feelings. I think of thee when I am toiling in field or at repose near slumber. To roast you under a chicken is divine in ways this mortal life does not understand, a taste of the hereafter.
Oh, yee of the crinkly leaf, of prehistoric splendor, without you I am forsaken. For you are stronger than I. I see the frost kiss your leaves, the cold come hard, and yet you remain. You are the original bulwark, the ever-going, the remaining life when all around you in the garden have fallen. I dream of thee. I find myself looking upward, the prayer on my lips not of salvation but of satiation. May I know your sweet taste again, with an abundance of butter and fat, the crispy joy of pork belly, and the pleasures of a fine piece of toast. For you Kale, are what I miss the most of home.
In your service,
Captain Jennadiah Woginrichinson Boghadair the Third.
J-45th Tennessee Cavalry