Ann Keiffer

Street Food

I consider the pine cones I come across
on sidewalks, on lawns, in streets,
as visual treats,
morsels of nature’s
beauty feast,
so tempting
I sometimes fill
a to-go bag
and take them
home with me
to heap in bowls,
and display on
railings of balconies.
What varieties!
Chartreuse cones
fat as cucumbers,
scales so tightly closed,
they feel almost smooth.
Open-scaled cones, dry,
rough, smaller than walnuts.
Cones bleached white by sun.
Cones coated with stickiness
I’m stuck with if I pick them up.
Cones laden with pollen
that will cover everything
with green flocking,
causing epidemics of itchy eyes
and sneezes non-stopping.
Cones that other creatures
very evidently do not view
as visual treats,
but as actual good eats,
street food gnawed down
until all that’s left are their
woody, corn-cobby bones.

Ann Keiffer
January, 2013

Photo Credit: Gilles Gonthier flickr/Creative Commons


About Ann

I am interested in the strange beauty of brokenness, in transforming possibility in difficult times, in how we heal even when we can’t get better, in the alchemy of surrender, in the interplay of light and shadow, in the bounty of everyday wonders, in the gift of laughter…and writing about it, all and everything.

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