A poet I know said <br />God is a radish. <br />I thought about that for a long time, <br />trying to make a connection <br />between God <br />and the crisp spring tang <br />of the first radish <br />I pull from my garden. <br /> <br /> I am watching a mourning dove <br /> consider a dip <br /> in Helene's bird bath... <br /> he flew off, dry <br /> leaving me to grapple with <br /> the theological import <br /> of radishes. <br /> <br />They are the first seeds <br />planted in the spring (along with peas) <br />appear as brave clover-leaves <br />before even weeds, <br />thrill me <br />with their very presence <br />in yet cool earth <br />roots red tendrils <br />soon to swell <br />to fullsome divinity. <br /> <br />If God is a radish <br />then when I gave a bunch <br />from my garden <br />to Donna and Phil, who love radishes <br />I gave away God? <br /> <br /> The mourning dove came back <br /> has decided to bathe here <br /> after all.<br /><br />Lois Read<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/god-is-a-radish/
