Pi Day
three slash fourteen.
Three point one four five nine…
Today we celebrate
the circumnavigation
of a round as compared
to its meaty middle.
(P)I.e., the area of a circle.
I lift up early memories
of protractors and graph paper.
I can feel that TI-83+ calculator
heavy in my JanSport backpack.
I can mentally conjure the
mathematical visionaries
who explored and posited.
Those ancestors who
approximated to get
squarely to the heart
of a circular problem.
This morning in my kitchen
I show my work:
I activate the equation
for homemade McGriddles,
a sandwich known for
its round bounty.
I shape sausage patties
whisk griddle cake batter
fry strips of streaky bacon
and convince a sous to
slice me some cheese.
I laboriously stir and stir
and stir and stir and stir
a cup of Vermont maple
over a medium stove
until I had crafted a layer
of crunchy maple morsels.
And perhaps I should've
read ahead in the recipe.
Because oops!
I needed greased round
forms, which I do not have.
And so, I improvised
much like
the early adventurers
of numbers.
After what felt like
three point one four hours,
we at last sat down
to feast on thick, fluffy
circle-ish cakes
of brunch perfection.
I raise my McGriddle
to the founders of
arithmetic and geometry.
To delicious breakthroughs
and the quest for the
ever-more perfect answer.
