snow peas

snow peas

oh, ode to warm weather!
for a couple of weeks,
we’re awash in pea pods
their sweet, crisp selves
play hide and seek
amidst the vines
do I see one? is it there?
the appraisal:
big enough to pick?
or wait a day?
good grief, that one’s
forming actual peas—
grab it quick.
before they’re washed,
their hides are tacky
maybe insects resist
the sensation, an instinct
they’d be trapped on landing.
we prefer them lightly
steamed—the snow peas,
not the insects—
three minutes max
toss them on salad
or add a smidge of butter
savor as vegetable
late spring perfection

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.

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Filed under Musings, Poetry, simple pleasures

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