The Fig Tree

We had a grand fig tree in our backyard in Greece and what glorious figs we had. This is a purely comic poem, among my favorite kind.

 All photos by Laurie Easton Parker.   I think we can all see why Adam chose this leaf.

                 The Fig Tree

             Once I climbed it
         I could not be caught.
               I was a monkey 
         in my very own fig tree.
               Early spring they
       were deep green but now,
          up high, near the sky,
                 sits a cluster
       tending toward deep pink
               on their way to
             the divine purple.

       I had not forgotten them
           as we had spoken
               just last week.
     It would be impolite of me
             not to pay a visit,
            merely a social call
     to inquire as to their health,
“Was there anything I could do?”

             With a sly tap
           from my long tail
           and a deft catch
             of my left paw,
       I saved this ripe fellow
     from a very dreadful fall.
          A kiss from this fig
           was all the thanks
               I ever wanted.

                 L’Isle-5/23