Do You Dare?

by Mary E. Lowd

A gift for my mother on her 60th birthday

When the mighty peach doth approacheth,
Wield thy vorpal cats and their snicky-snacky claws,
All twill be avenged upon such floral spheres,
They were ne’er giants nor windmills,
Only the fruit of nonsense upon a platter.
So, slay yon peach!
And, with the owl’s runcible spoon,
Serve it to thy loyal cats, brave cats.
They will disdain it.  But you may feast,
Knowing that no peach — so sweet,
and so cold — shall ever defeat thee.
So much depends upon it.  And a wheelbarrow.

* * *

From the book:  Some Words Burn Brightly: An Illuminated Collection of Poetry

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