By Marianne Brems
The crackling green of early life
becomes the yellow jacket of pride
in perfect banana ripeness.
But soon shy specs of brown
rear their tiny heads,
grow confident,
mature into warrior spots
puffing out their chests,
charging into a softening yellow marsh,
rejoicing in their twilight advance.
Multiplying,
Conquering,
until finally they join hands
and cover in a flaccid dusk
any lingering vestiges of ripeness.
Marianne Brems is a long time writer of textbooks, but also loves to write whimsical poems. She has an MA in Creative Writing from San Francisco State University. Her poems have appeared in Mused, Soft Cartel, The Pangolin Review, Right Hand Pointing, Armarolla, and Foliate Oak. She lives in Northern California.