From the Editor’s Perch…

Editor’s Note:  My Memorial Day Poem is a little late, but started on time.

Spuds

soldiers

The big grocers sell potatoes; but around here we grow spuds:

those hefty, solid, compact tubers,

the kind of vegetable that thrives outside small towns,

avoids schooling, and feels at ease in the dirt.

They marry early, often, and keep watch over whatever kids are around,

set a null course, and end up feeding the military.

Cause spuds don’t mess around.  They give their all.

Aside from navy beans, there is probably no vegetable more patriotic.

You eat a spud, and you’re eatin’ something which gave you your freedom.

You eat a spud and you’re tastin’ sacrifice and honor.

An’ if you’re afraid of a little dirt in your food…

Hell, you don’t know this land.

 

Photo from Google Images

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