To sprout an avocado seed in the wrong climate is to begin a battle.
the lamp, spread as gull wings,
frozen in flight,
under the constant light
of the surrogate sun illuminating
the rigid veins as if X rayed,
casting a green glow
among the books and white walls.
The trunk scarred by
dry stumps of fallen stems
rises to its tortured height
from the pile of fallen leaves
scattered as ashes of a former
verdant glory.
The avocado lives,
sprouting tiny fronds.
Someday there will be green blossoms
and the oblong fruit will appear
with its green linoleum skin
and soft green meat,
someday the bitter seed
will have brought a bounty
after an eternity of a decade
in the pot.
Poetry by Peter J. Kautsky
Read 604 times
Written on 2020-01-26 at 03:31
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Avocado
Seven leaves soar underthe lamp, spread as gull wings,
frozen in flight,
under the constant light
of the surrogate sun illuminating
the rigid veins as if X rayed,
casting a green glow
among the books and white walls.
The trunk scarred by
dry stumps of fallen stems
rises to its tortured height
from the pile of fallen leaves
scattered as ashes of a former
verdant glory.
The avocado lives,
sprouting tiny fronds.
Someday there will be green blossoms
and the oblong fruit will appear
with its green linoleum skin
and soft green meat,
someday the bitter seed
will have brought a bounty
after an eternity of a decade
in the pot.
Poetry by Peter J. Kautsky
Read 604 times
Written on 2020-01-26 at 03:31
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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