Le Petit Kalendrier Des Bergiers
by DAVID BROCK
JANUARY
You make ice cream in summer.
I, my son,
Make if in January. You’ve a fridge
And I have none.
Not that I dote on ice cream anyway.
But eggs are lost
And cream and sugar tossed
Into my wasteful bowl, lest any say
I waste God’s frost.
I, my son,
Make if in January. You’ve a fridge
And I have none.
Not that I dote on ice cream anyway.
But eggs are lost
And cream and sugar tossed
Into my wasteful bowl, lest any say
I waste God’s frost.
FEBRUARY
What food is best in winter?
Whatever you desire
In a heavily curtained room, with candles,
Beside a regal fire.
And the rattle of wind on the windows.
And a guest with a once-blue nose
Fast turning red, who came in stamping
To say “How it snows!
Whatever you desire
In a heavily curtained room, with candles,
Beside a regal fire.
And the rattle of wind on the windows.
And a guest with a once-blue nose
Fast turning red, who came in stamping
To say “How it snows!
MARCH
No matter what the weather,
The patient Brussels sprout
Has been with us all winter;
Nothing can put him out.
A savage eats his foeman
To feed on bravery.
But none of the sprout’s virtue
Has entered into me.
The patient Brussels sprout
Has been with us all winter;
Nothing can put him out.
A savage eats his foeman
To feed on bravery.
But none of the sprout’s virtue
Has entered into me.
APRIL
Farewell until September,
Ye oyster boys and girls.*
Don’t work too hard this summer. . . .
To me you all are pearls.
Ye oyster boys and girls.*
Don’t work too hard this summer. . . .
To me you all are pearls.
* Oysters can change their sex, which accounts for the letterending formula: “I must now close, as the oyster remarked when he wanted a little privacy for changing his sex.”
MAY
By May the expert gardener
Finds much on which to dine
Well-grown throught his garden.
Not I in mine!
Well-nourished, sanctimonious,
This bustler knocks me flat.
Perhaps he’ll die exhausted. . . .
There’s always that.
Finds much on which to dine
Well-grown throught his garden.
Not I in mine!
Well-nourished, sanctimonious,
This bustler knocks me flat.
Perhaps he’ll die exhausted. . . .
There’s always that.
JUNE
“If strawberries should disagree.
Add kirsch,” a gourmet said to me.
I cannot buy the stuff, so far.
Damn him as black as grosses guignes noires. *
Add kirsch,” a gourmet said to me.
I cannot buy the stuff, so far.
Damn him as black as grosses guignes noires. *
* The black cherries from which true kirsch is made.
JULY
God save us all, now comes the hour
Raw vegetables to devour.
O summer chill that jells my reason !
O rigor mortis of the season!
Raw vegetables to devour.
O summer chill that jells my reason !
O rigor mortis of the season!
AUGUST
I knew a man whose palate was so delicate
He could taste vegetable marrows.
The devil spike them,
I can taste them too,
And I don’t like them.
He could taste vegetable marrows.
The devil spike them,
I can taste them too,
And I don’t like them.
SEPTEMBER
Though lettuce has grown bitter,
My wife will doubtless think
It’s still a good equivalent
For meat and bread and drink.
My wife will doubtless think
It’s still a good equivalent
For meat and bread and drink.
OCTOBER
The pumpkin jack-o’-lanterns,
Grotesque autumnal sight.
Are better heads than many,
Containing air and light.
Grotesque autumnal sight.
Are better heads than many,
Containing air and light.
NOVEMBER
Before the frost has killed the wild mushrooms
I die a hundred deaths,
I feel a thousand heavy dooms,
And all my bonhomie
Cannot enjoy these treasures’ taste.
Poison myself to put down waste,
Is that economy?
I die a hundred deaths,
I feel a thousand heavy dooms,
And all my bonhomie
Cannot enjoy these treasures’ taste.
Poison myself to put down waste,
Is that economy?
DECEMBER
Turkeys turn men to pigs? Why, that’s not true.
Pigs don’t say grace, while men (of course) all do.
Pigs don’t say grace, while men (of course) all do.
