who are you fooling,
with your laughable spines?
as if you could fight,
limbs bowed,
pregnant with fruits.
but you're a tough one, I give you that:
roots drilled into the rock -
the soil you dwell in a layer of volcanic dust.
I stand in your shade and look down
to the ungenerous waters of the sea -
hard men and women have stood here before,
and before, a thousand years,
peeling the yellow rinds
with their calloused thumbs and thick nails
appreciating the miracle you have performed
transmuting sunlight and wisps of moisture.
the juices dribbled from the corners
of their mouths and onto their fingers -
sourness on the verge of sweet
making them wince and smile
at the joke -
laughable
when peeled back.
survive,
and maybe make something beautiful
