John I. Blair
When my son was a lad
We got joy from our yard,
Tomatoes, beans, lettuce, chard,
Hot jalapeŮos and glossy bells,
And round red radishes just for him.
The radish seeds
Were easy to hold
And never finicky
If he stuck them deep
Or the day was cold.
With warmer ground
And rainy days
They erupted from the sandy soil
Like vegetable warriors in a leafy take
On Jason and the Argonauts.
Just four weeks from seed to food,
What more could a youngster ask?
Sweet or not, they tasted good
Firm, crisp, with a juicy snap
As his teeth met in their crunchy heart.
Thirty years later when Iíve bought
Radishes piled in grocersí bins
I donít think of salads or party trays
But a little boy
And his happy dad.
©2004 John I. Blair
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