A Celebration of Nature and Foraging

When we will meet again,

we’ll go to the woodlands

to pluck and nibble on chickweed

and stems of water celery.

“Wait, wait,” you’d say,

“you gotta try this one. It tastes like parsnips.”

I would nod, laughing, “Yes, it does.”

. . .

Then, you will adorn my head with

purple flowers of the princess tree.

They couldn’t look

more different from mushrooms,

yet they taste like delicious mushroom soup.

“Amazing, huh?”

. . .

I always think of you as

my Rene Redzepi,

that Danish chef of the famed eatery

in Copenhagen called Noma.

You are both into those exquisite foraged flavors,

like wood sorrel, black walnuts...

. . .

When we will meet again,

we’ll find and load on pollen cones,

and kawakawa berries,

and mustard greens,

when we will meet -- one day --

when we will meet again.

. . .

This poem is inspired by this story and frist published in the Lark on the Medium.