The Harvest

Devils on horseback spring an apricot surprise
And date crunch the tough apple corps;
But hoary old chestnuts wielding broccoli spears
Compel the stuffed prunes to withdraw.

As nasturtium capers, the fig rolls on up
Kale cannon on olive-oiled wheels;
The melon bombes burst and the parsnip chips fly;
Wild plum stones fragment with loud squeals.

The spearmint rocks shatter while the almond shells launch
Lethal pear drops and hot currant buns;
But when blanched Arti chokes, Burdock stems the advance,
And a persimmon jams the guns.

Hazelnut clusters, then lemon peels to the left,
Compressing the soft summer fruits;
The raspberry crumbles and the strawberry shakes,
Right down to the dandelion roots.

At the beech kernel mustard breaks hearts of romaine,
Cucumber dips and watercress greens;
The cocoanut flakes and chrysanthemum leaves;
Yellow peppers become runner beans.

Asparagus shoots at the wilting carrot tops;
Craven caraway seeds the fear.
Soggy eggplant desserts, even fierce ginger snaps,
And banana splits from the rear.

Sugar beets the retreat as mad mango slices through;
Barley twists but falls in the attack.
Onion rings the endives, gooseberry fools them to yield,
Then they’re stripped and grape shot in the back.

Tomato skins the remains of a butternut squash;
Some elderflower wines in pain.
No damson preserves, nor any pineapple shreds;
Sad juniper berries the slain.

The coffee grounds are a gruesome flood
Of potato mash, watery-white;
The thyme has now come for rue-ridden mud,
Where lettuce heads sicken the sight.
Dark cherry pits run red with blood …
And rhubarb stalks the night.