Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Sunday, April 22, 2012


Image: Grape vine maturation
What obligation has the tree to the fruit
the vine to the grape?
Having birthed the seed
what is the duty to ensure it ripens neither
too soon nor too late?
And what of the vicissitude of the weather?
Catastrophe has no feeling for filial dependence
no concern with parental bonds
Storms strike randomly
ripping progeny from stem and branch, leaving
torn, gaping spaces into which
Obligation's energy keeps uselessly flowing
spilled sap


Grace said...

Nice use of the metaphor of grape and tree for obligation. As a mother, our obligations never seem to stop ~

Yes, we are living the same life :-)

A wonderful write ~

wanderer above the mist said...

Wow. I've never thought of this before!



Brian Miller said...

nice...fresh take on this...and i would say in many ways those whose kids have been struck down still ooze that obligation in a similar way...

Anonymous said...

Catastrophe cares not for care--Hard to truly protect against. Still, we keep trying, right? Great take on prompt, thanks. K.

Janine Bollée said...

This strikes me as dainty and elegant, with a hint of philosophy.
Like a sparkling wine.

BTW, migraine: connection with hypoglycemia?[low blood sugar]

Jo-Anne's Ramblings said...

I like this an interesting read makes one wonder

Fireblossom said...

No graper love, so they say...

Er, "greater." That should have said "greater".

Dave King said...

A really charming verse. I do believe that my old English teacher would have said of it that "You could take it anywhere!"


M. A. S. said...

You start this out great. I dig it.


JustRex said...

Very nice.

And it's a good thing that happens, or we'd be neck deep in plants.

Hey Monkey Butt said...

mmmmm grapes ;) love the post!

Buddah Moskowitz said...

A wonderful, quietly powerful write. Thanks!

Pat Tillett said...

REALLY good and thought provoking!
Parent and child... There always comes a time (at least there should) when the offspring makes it's own way in the world. Be it as a grape, a piece of fruit, or a human child. When any of those things hang onto the "parent" for too long, they wither away...