I most look forward to the butter beans
lodged between complicated broccoli trees
straight to the point discs of standout carrots
and the secret mazes of intricate cauliflower.
Beneath a rising haze carrying spicy scents
they fit softly amongst the crowd of it all
holding form beside showy potato slabs
that dwarf armies of identical, spectating peas.
On a stage built with uncountable grains
the rest present a scramble of taste
where parts are dented or branch off
forming the scene of a wild, flooded woods.
Unfailingly humble, the butter beans shine
not with the stuck up presence of a pepper
or inconsistency of a leaking tomato
but with a gentleness, consistent and kind.
