by Michael L. Ruffin
The Tree had
grown old.
The Boy had
grown wealthy
and powerful.
“What’s wrong, Boy?”
the Tree asked.
“The COVID-19 crisis,”
the Boy answered.
"How can I help?”
the Tree asked.
“You can die so
the stock market
can live,”
the Boy answered.
“You can kiss my roots,”
the Tree said to the Boy.
Michael L. Ruffin is a writer, editor, preacher, and teacher living and working in Georgia. He posts poems on Instagram (@michaell.ruffin) and prose opinions at On the Jericho Road. He is author of Fifty-Seven: A Memoir of Death and Life and of the forthcoming Praying with Matthew. His poetry has appeared at TheNewVerse.News and is forthcoming in 3 Moon Magazine and Rat's Ass Review.
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Showing posts with label grandparents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grandparents. Show all posts
Thursday, March 26, 2020
Monday, November 04, 2013
CLIMATE CHANGE SEEN AS RISK TO FOOD
by Jim Gustafson
There will, or so it seems, come a day
when warming left-overs for dinner
will be only a good memory,
like the one of our visit to grandma and grandpa
on their farm, when we played in the straw
in the loft of the barn,
ate the white chicken that ran the yard,
potatoes pulled from patch, cooked then mashed,
and fresh plucked peaches in pie.
Grandma and grandpa have now grown cold
in the ground next to church down the road.
All day their granite stone warms in the sun.
At night it holds the heat, and listens to corn
cry for drink, beans beg for dew,
as restless children in old farm houses
pull blankets from their bodies, wish
for just a breeze to come cool the night
with fresh promise.
Jim Gustafson is an MFA student at the University of Tampa. His most recent book, Driving Home, was published by Aldrich Press in January, 2013. Jim lives in Fort Myers, Florida where he reads, writes, and pulls weeds.
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| Image source: The Verge |
Climate change will pose sharp risks to the world’s food supply in coming decades, potentially undermining crop production and driving up prices at a time when the demand for food is expected to soar, scientists have found. --NY Times, November 1, 2013
There will, or so it seems, come a day
when warming left-overs for dinner
will be only a good memory,
like the one of our visit to grandma and grandpa
on their farm, when we played in the straw
in the loft of the barn,
ate the white chicken that ran the yard,
potatoes pulled from patch, cooked then mashed,
and fresh plucked peaches in pie.
Grandma and grandpa have now grown cold
in the ground next to church down the road.
All day their granite stone warms in the sun.
At night it holds the heat, and listens to corn
cry for drink, beans beg for dew,
as restless children in old farm houses
pull blankets from their bodies, wish
for just a breeze to come cool the night
with fresh promise.
Jim Gustafson is an MFA student at the University of Tampa. His most recent book, Driving Home, was published by Aldrich Press in January, 2013. Jim lives in Fort Myers, Florida where he reads, writes, and pulls weeds.
Labels:
chicken,
crops,
farm,
food,
global warming,
grandparents,
Jim Gustafson,
new verse news,
poetry,
potatoes,
promise
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