Asparagus (poem)


It pops up from the bare ground, stiff and ready.
growing by the second
and if you snap it, young and crisp,
you can eat it raw
juicy like the rain
flavor green as spring.

But, if you forget it’s there,
under the pear tree,
at the back of the garden,
or keep too busy in the house,
look out someday and see how,
as a tall, graceful fern,
it reproves you for your lack of love
as a thousand lacy tendrils droop with longing.


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