Crock Pot

Six years now, the six-gallon buckets
Of beans have sat in the barn.
Old and older, I tried, occasionally,
To soak them and cook them into softness,
Usually giving up after twenty-four hours.

I would furtively add canned beans to the grocery list,
And Phil would buy them with a sense of defeat.

Incredibly, despite occasional exposure to the humid climate,
The beans remained mold-free,
Appearing only more desiccated as the years passed.

Fifteen years now, I have had a crock pot.
It went from too big to be practical
To too small to feed us all,
And I distrusted the appliance almost immediately
After a disastrous broccoli-tuna casserole experience.
As if that even sounds appealing.

So imagine my delight when
A random line
In a Mexican cookbook caught my eye,
That crock pots cook beans perfectly.

I have tried this statement and found it true.
Black beans: I no longer wonder if I would crack a tooth.
Garbanzos: Incredibly, two hours to cook to perfection.

My buckets of beans have been restored to me!
The shame of misplaced purchases has been replaced
With joy.