World Poetry Day

To join in on the celebration, I am posting one of my very favorite poems I wrote while in my Listener Poet training.

Based on a true story! Enjoy.

Fair Judge

As if on a secret mission the judges arrive

at the county fairgrounds at the edge of town

on a steamy, late July morning.

Their round faces bright with caffeine and

summer sunrise, the huge hall beginning to echo

with friendly greetings and anticipation.

The judges shuffle to their seats at 

assigned tables, pull office supplies from home

out of canvas bags, arrange them in neat lines.

A canning ruler, sticky notes, copies of

the fair handbook with guidelines for each 

category. Ribbons at the ready, blue, white, red.

Baked goods start with white bread.

That judge will slice, break, and taste 

each loaf and cookie, sometimes sharing. 

The preservation judge works alone, 

considering jellies first; jewel-toned gels

in clear glass with bright metal tops.

Fan-favorite cherry is abundant this year. 

Peach as well —- the weather was perfect.

Rare elderberry in mysterious dark purple. 

Tiny sounds of pleasure waft over from

the baked goods table — “Oh! Look at that 

crumb!” And, “How old is this entrant?”

Before their assistant nods and whispers

quietly a low number, passing a ribbon along.

They can sometimes taste, but never opine.

The canning judge remains quiet, intent,

head down, measuring headspace, peering at bubbles, 

seeking large pieces, settled debris, foamy tops.

Only allowed to open, smell and finally taste 

at the end of the list: dried fruits and herbs,

dried meats and fruit leathers. A small reward 

For very serious Fair business. Entire families

competing: This father has canned a quart of

vibrant, green chile salsa, labeled “Diablo”. 

The mother: Spaghetti sauce with vegetables

from the family garden. Peppers and tomatoes

chopped delightfully fine. Kids: Strawberry jam.

Large chunks, inexpertly cut, awash in 

pink, foamy gel. The canning judge considers

each with the same eye and care, so deserved

Before writing every entrant a little note. 

What works, what could be improved for 

next year. Sandwich method —- good, bad, good —-

and personal comments: “I wish I could taste this!”

“Gorgeous color.” “Please read the fair book

rules.” “I know you worked hard on this.”

There can be only one purple in each category

but it doesn’t have to be awarded; this judge

withholds silky purples and cheerful blues

For the entries that most closely follow

the fair book rules. The right pectin, or jar

where required, with receipts attached.

Last year, banana bread won again. The tall,

proud loaf sliced cleanly in half for tasting, 

pink champion ribbon bedecking the plate.

In preservation, bananas won as well —- dried fruit,

an eight-year-old participant vying against

his sister’s dried herbs. Two very different

foods, oddly competing. It is difficult to dry

bananas and get the perfect color and crisp; 

These are deserving. The judge won’t be present

when later that evening, the general public stops

and wonders how a tiny jar of creamy, crispy yellow

disks won a purple ribbon and the champion pink. 

They aren’t allowed to taste the love and effort,

the pride, bursting from the remaining twenty-five

little banana slices. But the judge could. 

2023 Ari Alison