Canada’s Nectar

A little, silly something for today …

Maple Syrup

 

Canada’s Nectar

My favourite vegetable, by far,
is not what you’d expect
(No, not chocolate, although that
would come in second best.)
The veggie that I most crave
comes from Canada, so fair,
I eat it with my pancakes,
which my hubby makes with care.
Yes, Maple Syrup is my choice
of vegetable supreme,
And before you argue, “It’s not veg,”
my case, I must convene.
The syrup comes from Maple Trees,
the liquid: rather plain,
but boil it up and watch it change,
It will be hard to abstain.
My point is this: the Maple Tree
is a plant, complete with leaves,
and, surely, that means Canada’s best
into me, good health breathes!

 

I had planned to share this yesterday as it was Pancake Day in the UK, but, well, you know about best laid plans and all that jazz!

I’m Going Slightly Mad

 

I had so much fun writing this poem, even though not a word of it makes any sense. It was just a fun, nonsense write.

 

I’M GOING SLIGHTLY MAD

(A Nonsense Poem)

Scraped knees tucked
into my chest,
providing a rest for my
chin,
eyes peeking at
yellow daffodils as they
dance
in front of me—
oh dear—
last time they
quick-stepped round
my garden
I stood in the midst
and felt the soft flutterings of their
petals.
At the time, I was a
banana tree devoid of fruit;
a sorry sight,
sweltering as the outside temperature
rose higher and higher.
The meaning was oh-so clear,
a sign from my commander:
my kettle was boiling over
and I had to rest
because if I didn’t
my boat would crash the rocks
and my cargo of wool would
unravel so fast
I’d never catch it.

I’m going slightly
mad,
I feel the eye on the
back of my head
swivel
and close,
it’s seen too much,
always looking behind,
no place for an eye to
live,
and it tells me
my kettle is whistling,
why does it chisel my teeth that way?
The rainbow-coloured nurse gives me a
pill—
no, ten pills,
they multiply by the day
I guess it’s finally happened:
Am I slightly mad?
But how about you?
I see you check
the light switch
five times
before you leave the room
on your three-wheeled bike.
And there you have it . . .