Pickles

Pickles lead mysterious lives,                                                     

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trolling the briny depths.

They seem content.

Shoulder to shoulder

tightly packed,

treading their bracken aquarium.

The pickle fisherman

descends two brave fingers

into the cold green waters.

The angler tastes sweet and salt

herb and spice

chilly present and summer past.

In a previous life,

the pickle knew warm days

and cool smooth skin.

It lived a previous life as a cucumber.

Everybody liked my poem "Ticked Off" (see December 19, 2012 post) that was about cucumbers, I thought you might like this one about pickles.  This poem bout pickles is from August 22, 2012. 

© 2012 Catherine Giordano

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