Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Fruit and the Edible Moment

Avocados for instance
-Unless you live in the tropics
Where they grow on trees-
Are store bought as hard as calculus
Piled like some green cairn
On your fools purchase-path
So then set aside to ripen, hopefully
The clock with no hands begins to tick
And as likely as not
When you next attain visiting rights
And press with an expectant finger
They are mush, disappointingly
A midwinter’s slush
And just to be assured of you ill-fated timing
You slice it open, only to be
Eyed by that massive passive seed
That winks at the secret it holds:
Avocados are only perfectly ripe,
Just the moment before they
Go rotten.


Friday, February 14, 2014


Wanderers seldom lose their way
Stepping forward anew each day
The path depending on the wind
How to begin and where to end?
And much to our new found surprise
A moment that inside us lies
A twist that flames from hidden spark
A course when done can only mark
A sojourn then to find again
That unknown home around the bend.