Life among the Prickly Pear
Rain’s twofold curse: not enough
too much. Still, I take comfort
even among the thorns.
There is much to like here.
Its moonlight flowers.
Paddles fried with minced garlic.
Wren’s jubilant shriek.
The fruit’s red nectar.
I wake to distant screech owls
purring their desires on separate
slopes. Late spring, storms looming.
I close my eyes and the creek rises.
* * *
A draft of this first appeared here in June 2015. I believe it’s done now.
On a personal note, twice in the past four days I’ve been unable to reach
a destination due to flooded creeks.
O at the Edges 
Wonderful poem, Bob.
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Thanks, Emily!
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I have preferred the rain to the years of drought we had in DFW, but floods are just the flip side of that, and no laughing matter. May June, July and August bring your dry heat!
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A little rain is always welcome, particularly in summer!
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Moving poem, given the intense rains of late – love your closing line.
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Thanks, Jazz. The weather this time of year is always interesting!
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Keep a snorkel in your back pocket JIC.
How do the paddles taste?
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Oh, yes. They’re fairly bland, but absorb flavor well, which is why I’ll cook them with garlic and a little lime juice.
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I love “Paddles fried with minced garlic.” Great imagery. Just me a new perspective on the many that surround my house.
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You really must choose carefully – the young paddles are preferred.
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I’ve had the fruit, never the paddle!
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I can find them at the grocery stores here, which is much easier than de-spining them myself.
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Love it!
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Thank you!
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I can almost smell it – twofold – and both the rain and the fried garlic!
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They both whet my appetite!
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I have the same problem today – flooded cheeks.
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It seems we have more rain on the way. I’ll probably avoid the rural properties for the next few days.
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That’s kinda what I didn’t mean. Cool poem though, thanks Robert, I think you are outstanding.
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Sometimes I welcome flooded creeks – metaphoriical or actual – but this week I need clear passage. And thank you!
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Yes, this is definitely finished, the images lingering and putting me in mind of the prickly pear cactus I found near novelist Frederick Manfred’s home on Blue Mound, Minnesota, amazed that such things grew that far north.
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I love prickly pear, despite its invasive, tenacious qualities. And resilient! They grow anywhere. I’ve found them growing on the roof of a shed (not much soil there) and in the crooks of trees, not to mention out of cracks in rocks. I admire them. And they taste good, too, if you don’t mind messing with the needles (fresh is so much better than store-bought).
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They are of course all over South Africa where they make a liqueur with their taste, but I am not sure they use the real thing in the making…
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I’ve never tried a cactus liqueur, but have of course tried its cousins from the agave and sotol plants. I much prefer beer.
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So you’ve eaten prickly pear, then. How adventurous!
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Yes, of course. Have even used it as a topping on pizza. Not bad, if I say so myself.
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Beautiful poem. I thought I remembered that you’re in TX–hope you didn’t suffer major losses during the recent flooding. My cousin is dealing with some home damage.
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Thanks, Stella. We’re quite safe from flooding – our two homes (suburban and rural) are on hills, well above creeks, and we’re seldom taken by surprise. The floods do get a tad annoying at times, even when expected.
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So glad you’re safe 🙂
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The desert smells so wonderfully alive after rain. Thanks for the image and the poem.
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Petrichor! A favorite odor.
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I learned a new word . . . and read a bit about the life science and mythology behind it. Thanks, Robert!
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Lovely one, Bob. “Not enough, too much, still I take comfort . . .”. Peace to you, man!
~ Clyde Long via mobile device ~
>
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Thanks, Clyde. This time of year is always interesting around here.
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I hope the floods desist enough to give you clear passage
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We’ll see, Derrick. In a couple of hours I have to attempt to cross a creek.
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Really enjoyed this!
Check out my blog when you get the chance 🙂
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Thanks very much. I try to check out every visitor’s blog.
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The poem paints a beautiful image=)
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I’m so pleased you can see it. Thank you.
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I’m impressed with your attention span. Personally, working on a poem for more than a month is a miracle! It’s a delectable end product, and I do hope that feeling of (relative) completion feels wonderful. You’ve earned it.
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I have a short attention span, which is why I write poetry rather than novels. 🙂 But I do let poems “marinate” while I go on to work on others, returning to them from time to time until I feel they’re finally done (or I’m sick of them). Some of these sit for only a matter of days, other sit for years. I don’t worry too much about completing any one piece, as I have many in process (mostly marinating).
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Reminds me of Lubbock cotton farmers – too hot, too cold; too much rain, not enough. I’ve lived with prickly pears all my life – you’ve captured them.
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I could never be a farmer. The uncertainty would be too stressful.
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Great poem.
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Thank you, Wren. So pleased you like it.
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A lovely poem… flowers thrive even among the thorns! 🙂
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Thank you, Iris. They do, indeed!
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Lovely indeed. My mother introduced me to prickly pears when I was a young child and we were traveling as a family through the desert… I thought she was crazy at the time! Thanks for the sweet memory.
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They are lovely and fascinating (if painful, at times) plants!
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Lovely poem, we have had a lot of flooding this year, hope it is not too bad there!
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We’ve had a good bit of rain this spring, which has been nice. It’s hard to complain much about the local flooding.
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That’s good, I’m glad it is not too bad!
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Mostly predictable and not catastrophic.
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You make me miss Tucson. We had a house in what used to be a few acres in “the sticks” in the northeast corner of the town on Catalina Hwy near Mt. Lemon. You just took me there. Thank you.
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Always happy to help with your virtual travel, Jilanne.
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