\u201cRutabaga\u201d \u00a0Laura Grace Weldon<\/p>\n
You darken as my knife slices
\nblushing at what you become.
\nI save your thick leaves
\nand purple skin
\nto feed the cows.<\/p>\n
A peasant guest at any meal
\nyou agree to hide in fragrant stew
\nor gleam nakedly
\nin butter and chives.<\/p>\n
Though your seeds are tiny
\nyou grow with fierce will
\ngrateful for poor soil and dry days,
\nheave up from the ground
\nunder sheltering stalks
\nto sweeten with the frost.<\/p>\n
Tonight we take you into our bodies
\nas if we do you a favor\u2014
\nletting your molecules
\nbecome a higher being,
\none that knows music and art.<\/p>\n
But you share with us
\nwhat makes you a rutabaga.
\nThrough you we eat sunlight,
\ntaste the soil\u2019s clamoring mysteries,<\/p>\n
\u201cRutabaga\u201d by\u00a0Laura Grace Weldon,<\/a>\u00a0from\u00a0Tending<\/em><\/a>\u00a0(Aldrich Press, 2013). \u00a9 Laura Grace Weldon. Presented here by poet submission.<\/p>\n More about the author<\/p>\n Laura Grace Weldon’s happy childhood was marred by the presence of alligators under her bed. No one ever proved they weren’t real.<\/p>\n She found peace in a small forest behind her home, where she hoped small woodland creatures might grow to trust her and eat the offerings of food she brought each day. They didn’t.<\/p>\n She also sought refuge in books, happily bringing home dozens each week from that heavenly realm called The Library. When told, “get your nose out of that book and go outside” she rode her trusty pink bike for hours. Quite regularly she discovered the thrill of getting lost. Back then small girls found their own way home from construction sites, major highways and Lake Erie. The only consequence? A sense of adventure.<\/p>\n The continuing adventure has led Laura to write a book of poetry with nursing home residents, run support groups for abused children, teach nonviolence workshops, develop community enrichment programs and make messy art.<\/p>\n Laura lives on Bit of Earth Farm with her family. Although she’s not a particularly useful farm wench she takes part in raising cows, chickens, produce, honeybees, and the occasional ruckus. In her idle hours she writes essays and articles, edits other people’s books, spends time on the blog she said she’d never start, writes poetry, and is slow at work on her next book. Catch up with her at\u00a0www.lauragraceweldon.com<\/a>.<\/p>\n By the way, she’s learned that the alligators haunting us are exactly where any of us put them.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Wednesday, August 14, 2019 \u00a0\u2014 \u201cThrough you we eat sunlight\u201d I had another poem queued up for today, but Laura Grace Weldon\u2019s hymn to a Rutabaga took my imagination by storm. \u00a0No . . . perhaps not a storm, perhaps … Continue reading ![\"\"](\"https:\/\/sites.udmercy.edu\/poetry\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/170\/2016\/08\/rutabaga.jpg\")
\u00a0\u00a0<\/a>![\"\"](\"https:\/\/sites.udmercy.edu\/poetry\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/170\/2019\/08\/Rutabaga.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n