Here's a silly little tale,
I hope  a giggle does not fail,
I was cooking Bok Choy in a tent,
On a primus stove, up she went,
You can guess what that meant,
Dinner was a non-event,
Now known as "The Bok Choy Incident!"

Polly had a delicate situation
Was zinged by a witch last spring
Which engendered a condition which did cling:
On Tuesdays she was a girl
Who liked scented candles and flowers
And stickers of dragons with magical powers
On Mondays and Wednesdays she was a boy
Who loved dirt bike racing & spicy bok-choy
Thursdays she was a socialist vegan
Fridays a long armed gibbon
And on Saturdays she became, to the chagrin & horror
Of her pets and paramour
A Tea Parti colored Republican!

would you like to take a walk
through my gardens now with me?
with the loveliest of flower
and the tiniest of pea?

yes?
good,
well come along my darling
now come along it's free,
an let's go to the gardens
to see what we can see

well,
I planted here some garlic
from the garlic bulbs I had
an the bok choy
well it bolted
and I lost it
that's too bad
but still
it had some flowers
though,
so really not so sad,

sigh,
smile now, ; )

see the tomatoes look so happy
lots to can, to cook an share
the cucumbers are plenty
see those guys are everywhere,

those here are purple eggplant
with soft delicate new flowers,
an the weather has been perfect
just so hot with scattered showers

the chocolate mint like poetry
WiLd and prolific
dead head all the marigolds
an boy they grow terrific,

in lovely burning oranges
and yellows
you can eat,
marigolds - nasturtiums
are really such a treat
and eating from my garden
well really can't be beat,

the kale is getting big,
and my peppers hot an mild
the pumpkins taking over
like an ivy envy wild

cosmos and green beans
were started from a seed,
radishes are too,
look-
I snuck 'em in between,

basil and cilantro
rosemary and sage,
I could go on and on
and write another page

but really you should visit
and come to see it now
but thanks for reading this
though vicarious somehow

I'm still happy for to share
my life
and love today
I hope you know I care
an are soon
here on your way
even in grey skies
for the growing I will pray,

and I will be here waiting
tending gardens
come what may.

Ma Cherie © 2017

In the midweek of twelves months I torched blunts and choked on wet smoke and chamomile tea.
Fretting the niggling giblets of a queasy disrememberance of a sober stroll through your tossed hair salad.
I managed to mangle  the marvelous gross lust of our impending
delirium. i farmed bok choy to annoy our local siege. our muskets were polished with misdeeds.
our demons barked, all coy and ravenous in the sweet diffuse of our useless aplomb.
ginger rockets in our thespian numb. you Dis-Oriental surrogate Mom.
You.... flame folding cranes, like a Japanese cancer
with opposable thumbs.
Unstoppable in the dead wink
of an awkward eye
upon your heaving *******.

You burn regardless.

Kale greens. Beets grow fat and wine-dark.
Carrots spin sun into fibrous orange.
Someone carried soil up these stairs.

Onions open long fingers into the morning fog.
Small herbs and winter squash keep quiet company
here on the rooftop while sirens pass below.

In the afternoon one or two leave their e-mail
and ascend to this improbable place.
“Put your hands into the dirt,” a doctor advised,

and you’ll feel better.”  There is a time to plant
and a time to reap.  A time when nature, nearly
spent, needs tending in small places.

Boat-weary immigrants lay bok choy along
the sidewalk’s edge.  Geraniums bloom
in window boxes.  Here and there

insistent chilis dangle on a bush in a half-
barrel.  A rooftop is world enough for now.
You don’t need forty acres or a mule.

A few square yards, drip line, a couple
of spades and willing hands suffice.
The rest is blessing.

The gorgeous smell of pecans roasting,
mixed with the sweetness of coconut toasting,
chicken breast pounded into paillards,
the grill is smoking in the yard.

Garlic minced and onion chopped,
jalapeno sliced and thrown on top,
sizzling sounds as chicken meets grill,
this is going to be a tastebud thrill.

Baby bok choy goes down now
smells better than should be allowed,
a touch of brown sugar and of soy,
this will be something to enjoy.

Sticky rice bubbles and steams,
the makings of culinary dreams,
pecans and coconut stirred right in,
the rice the base to this foodga-sm.

Jalapeno herbed chicken hot and ready,
salty sweet bok choy, hold it steady,
finish it off with ice cold beer,
don't you wish you were right here?