Pearadise

I saw some pears lying on the ground,
ants eating them, bees swarming around…
well, I like ants, and I like bees,
and I like what falls from pear trees.

I picked one up, blew the ants off,
then pick up another, juicy and soft…
I got a few more, but I’m willing to share,
so there’s a couple of pears still lying there.

I watched the ants enjoy their feast,
and there was plenty for all the bees…
then I took the pears that I had found,
turned on the water, and hosed ‘em down.

The bad parts wound up in the compost heap…
the rest were ready to eat—
but I steamed ‘em up anyway,
and that’s what I had for breakfast today.

I planted that tree thirty years ago,
in the back yard, where the garden grows…
and all these years I’ve been very pleased
to share it with the ants and bees.

I saw some pears lying on the ground,
ants eating them, bees swarming around…
well, I like ants, and I like bees,
and I like what falls from pear trees—
yes, I like ants, and I like bees,
and I like what falls from pear trees

Elixir

A mysterious word conjuring the magical,
evoking arcane potions, perhaps
stirred in a cauldron under the full moon,
distilling secret ingredients to their quintessence,
the tantalizing promise of panacea.

Our version, however is as down-to-earth
as our backyard, consisting of whatever
so-called ‘weeds’ are close at hand:
comfrey, violets…dandelion, of course;
plantain, Creeping Charlie (mint family),
purslane, raspberry and strawberry leaves,
day lily and clover flowers, burdock, et cetera,
stuffed into a gallon jar, filled with boiling water,
and left to infuse, extracting nutrients, all day long,
then poured through a strainer, and sipped like nectar,
chilled, in summer, warmed, in winter…

after all, these plants know how
to eat sunshine, and worm shit,
washed down with rainwater:
why wouldn’t they know how
to nurture us?