Thursday, April 25, 2013

hunting lentils in the rain

The hunt was exhaustive
but finally I had the vegetable
at bay. With great joy
I slaughtered the carrot.

There's no sport in cabbages.
They just sit there, green,
awaiting their fate. A golf club
could do a thousand in a morning.

Now the lentil is a cunning bean.
Small and flat, it disguises itself
as a patch of gravel
and lies in wait for you.
It has all the advantages
as long as it doesn't rain,
swelling it to mush.
The wise vegetable hunter
always hunts lentils in the rain.

(one of my 'legacy' of poems, written 26 Jan 1995)

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