Stingers

I may have posted this poem a few years ago, but I think it's funny enough for re-posting. My wife and I used to celebrate dining out with a stinger or two after the meal. And then simply fall into bed. Stingers are really tasty but oh so powerful. Because limericks are universally funny, I used a limerick sequence of four as the form. Hope you like the poem. You may even try the drink if you've never done so, but be careful. They're dangerous.

Something else I’ve written about before, my son Mike’s grapefruit tree. I’ve kept track of it ever since we brought it here from New York and planted it here in Arizona. Quick story summary: When Mike was five or six (1974 or ’75), he stuck a grapefruit seed into the soil of one of his mother’s house plants. It sprouted and was then transferred to its own pot. It grew slowly, always a house plant, and we kept it in the living room. When we moved to Arizona, the plant (tree) came with us. I then dug a hole in our backyard and stuck it in, twenty years ago. Now look at it. It’s about fifteen feet tall and produces a few grapefruit each season, but not many and not very tasty. Who cares. It’s Mike’s tree and we love it.