August 11 Radishes

Monday August 11

“Cloudy skies this morning followed by thunderstorms during the afternoon. High around 75F. Winds ESE at 10 to 15 mph. Chance of rain 90%.”   So tells me at 7:35 am.  7:35 reminds me that I am up later than usual and the calendar tells me that I have an earlier than usual meeting to prep for.   Hustling this morning.   I looked around in the “Poems I love” folder and found Susan B Auld’s “Radishes”:  small children with their mom become grown ups and, some days, pause to taste the wonder of their childhood adventures.

I  hope you like the poem.
I  hope you pause at least 3 times today to taste some of the wonder in your life.
The child in the picture lives in Jordan,  so too the radishes.

Have a good day.

john sj


Today’s Post


Pull up some radishes for dinner,
my mother said.
They grow next to the house under your bedroom window.

Afraid I’d pull up something other than a radish
I gathered a sister, a brother
and we knelt in the dirt
under the screened window


at what we thought
to be a radish.

Its leaves so new   so green
our hands  so hesitant  so unsure

we reached and pulled

earth clung
to our fingers
to the fleshy roots
quivering in the sun

we pulled up radish after radish
handing them
a bouquet
to our mother.

She no longer cares for radishes.
My sister, brother and I tend our own gardens.

But I wish everyday
to kneel again
under that window

to feel new and green
hesitant and unsure.

“Radishes” by Susan B. Auld, from 2011 Poetry Challenge (editor unknown). © Highland Park Poetry, 2011.  

Art credit: “Would you like a radish?”, photograph by Jenny at A Taste of Travel, part of a series entitled “The Children of Jordan’s Al-Amir Village” (originally color).


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