OMGoodness. I almost forgot about Poetry Month. Here it is and I missed 4 days already. I planned to share some info about genetic research of cannabis. I never knew the innate difficulties scientists have mapping plant genomes. It’s partly because plants can’t run away or hide as a defense mechanism. So, instead they have different genes, duplicate genes that can be used in times of stress. I never knew that since 1993, the THC in some strains of cannabis went from 3% to 37%. Scientists are busy working on what characteristics of which strains prevent nausea, enhance appetite, suppress seizures, stop headaches, etc. It’s big business, and it’s competitive science.
Okay, enough of that fun stuff. On to poetry. Today’s challenge is:
spend some time looking at the names of heirloom plants, and write a poem that takes its inspiration from, or incorporates the name of, one or more of these garden rarities.
Heirloom seeds get passed from generation to generation because of a particular trait: taste, hardiness, uniqueness, size, and all those other things we like. Some of the heirloom seeds go back as far as the founding fathers. Perhaps a bit scientific, but more like a bit of the family lore.
This got me thinking about characteristics of people and how we cultivate friends: nurturing, pruning, weeding, and supporting.
Heirloom Friends Among Some Weeds My brown-skinned Poona Kheera, your words are crisp and sweet. Unlike Doug Varin, whose earthy grounding is a goal to reach. Rosita's clear maturity bestows early season's blessing. Eriene weaves a jaded thread, ying to yang, balance to professing. Cherry Limeade's blue haziness sprouts a lovely budding mirth. And Brandywine's zest and vigor, our resolute standard-bearer. An ACDC one for all, the spice of lives, spawns rebirth. Blending. Challenging. Enhancing. Together and apart. All my friends I see in me. All my friends are more than I. Cherish, tend, and keep them dear. Protect and guard and keep them near.