Late rhubarb

Often I don*t get to the rhubarb harvest until after the flower stalks have grown.  This is late.  Way late.  No flower stalks yet.  It is already July 3rd.  Tomorrow is the 4th and friends are planning their barbecues.  It is cold in the house, and I am sitting under a blanket as I write this.  It is difficult to plan a holiday when the weather won*t comply, when circumstances conspire to quash celebration.

I am late to harvest the rhubarb.

It has grown thick,

Red and green,

In the remains

Of the garden bed.

When people ask

What I*m doing

For the holiday,

I think about the rhubarb,

The weeds that need

To be pulled,

The grapevine taking over

The crab apple

Again.

I think about being on call

For pastoral care

During the fireworks,

My daughter home from camp

Friday night.

It is chilly today

Overcast gray

The rhubarb awaits.

The corn in the fields

Is not knee high

This Fourth of July.

I am hopeful for sweet corn

Come August.