A Semi-Salacious Ode to Rhubarb

Ruby red, you rise!

Emerging like a young, nubile burlesque dancer

From your long Winter’s nap

Unfurling from Earth’s musty, mulch-covered lap.

Last Autumn, you shed your frippery and retreated

into a cold, damp ground of dreams

Nestling quietly inside the Garden greenroom.

November and December,

Under blankets of frost,

You didn’t freeze

You didn’t go numb

No, not you,

You dove a bit deeper

You stretched your limbs

Your tendrils and roots

Tucked them round your precocious flame

Putting the cold to bitter shame.

January and February

You bravely withstood

The Necessary chill.

All throughout March

You dove deeper still.

Then, the greatest stage Mother of them all

Began nudging you through the dark hall

Much to this viewer’s delight

out, out…ever so gingerly

toward the spotlight.

And Today, the First of April,

You Woke

Emerging in full sun

With such astonishing color and glory

It’s difficult to fathom

How you, at this moment, so demure, so coy

Will burst and bloom…

But Wait! Not yet!

You’re not fully formed!

All throughout May

You must continue to rehearse and cultivate

Your acidulous (t)art and robust taste.

Then, come, Summer,

Not a moment too soon

Nor a moment too late

You will fan forth

Making your entrance

Revealing your resplendent story.

Touching and astonishing

Both eyes and tongue

With a full-grown sensation

That will be relished, savored

Yes, even adored.

Come June, my pretty, you will take the stage by storm.

Come June, my dear, you will brazenly arrive.

Come June, sweetheart, you will star in pasties and pie

       © Catherine Glynn 2025