Dear Dad

by Colleen

I “got my run in” today,

And I happened to pass by on the way

A plaque underneath a tree

Proclaiming to all, “This is a Hackberry”.

(Oh, silly Texans, “y’all”,

You do not know your trees or even the fall).

I laughed in my head.

Hackberrys, you’ve taught to me,

Are meant to be hacked, a useless tree,

But down here, they know not

And cherish the ugly thing, giving it it’s own plot.

The trees down here, the weather’s ruined ’em.

They all look like you’ve come and pruned ’em.

All twisted and crumbly and dead.

They don’t know how to grow

Squash or turnips or radicchio.

Fluorescent fruits  fill the stalls

In the farmer’s market, foreign Spanish words call.

Cactus fruit, perish the thought!

What is this seedy thing I just bought?

I am so confused.

The cafeteria’s brussels sprouts, yuck!

Their asparagus, out of season, is muck.

Limply, it dangles, dingy and green,

I turn up my nose at the “green” beans.

It’s crazy down here, Dad, so odd.

The trees are all wrong, the food tastes like sod.

Texas, you have me all bemused.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Dear Dad

  1. Jenna

    Hahaha! Awesome, Colleen. And it’s too bad the cafeteria doesn’t do a good job with brussel sprouts, because sauteed with a little butter and bacon, those things are DIVINE.

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s