Vital, rampant, like a lover you embrace the cane
Reaching to the sun, slender stemmed, white flowers abundant.
With the passing of the solstice your juvenile crop,
Tender, deep green, delicious after a moment’s steaming
Is the hors d’oeuvre. Left alone
Through a long, warm summer you become voluptuous,
Heavy with pods, swelling with promise, the pleasure must wait
Until the sheath that shelters your seed starts to pale
Green morphs to yellow. Now I can indulge in the entré.
White pregnant beans blushed lime green, no bigger than a fingertip, plump, tender
Begging to mix with summer’s bounty:
Tomato, garlic, onion, sweet pepper, chilli, parsley.
And with the equinox and late summer sun
Your pods, honey coloured, crinkle with the final course
Tasty pearls for winter stews of garlic sausages aromatic with fennel.
With you I am satiated, indulged, impassioned.
You never forsake me
My beloved Ryder Top of the Pole!
