rhubarb

right where Grampa planted them,
nearly a hundred years ago;
long arms,
like mine,
that I inherited from him,
do the best,
headed with
the sharp knife,
down to the center
of the bunch,
as close to the
mother root
as possible,
carefully
excising
the broom-handle-sized
stalks
that hold up the giant leaves
the size of
dinner placemats:
succulent sweetness,
but a little tart,
after all these years.



May 15, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.