Attack of the Rhubarb

At first there were mutterings
as a few leaves gathered outside
the windows near the garden.

Not anticipating any trouble
we retired shortly after sunset
just as the first bats were about.

We were awakened shortly
after sunrise as the early birds
were returning to their nestlings.

It was my wife who shook me:
“I think the rhubarb are attacking,”
“Don’t be silly: rhubarb don’t attack.”

They were straining to breach
the windows, as far as the eye
could see, a maze of huge leaves.

Clamoring and thumping against
the window. They never said
what they wanted, but— what’s that?

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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2 Responses to Attack of the Rhubarb

  1. Rosemarie Collins says:

    Perhaps they were worried that there were strawberries about and that together they would be baked in a pie.

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