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Category: Vegetable, Herbs, Grapes and other Fruit. | Posted: Tue Nov 22, 2011 6:17 pm

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Rutabagas were new to me
when I first paired with Jean.
At Thanksgiving and Easter dinners
her grandpa Frank, her spinster cousin,
mom, dad, and a tribe of handsome
brothers dined in near silence
at a great green table
with fierce griffins underneath.
I would wonder if their quiet
was about secrets or something wrong
but now I think it was
just how they gathered.
Rutabagas were on the table.
I had to ask Jean what they were.
My first mouthful tasted
like something in a gunny sack;
nothing like a wine
from which an epicure, or would-be epicure,
might claim to read the soils
in which the grapes were grown.
She said she loved their dug-up texture,
the hint of dirt
that couldn't be baked away,
how they left the tongue
with a rumor of something
underground and dark.
Autumn vegetables suit her,
I think, and none more than rutabagas,
so reluctant to have left the ground.




Last edited: Sat Dec 03, 2011 5:29 pm

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