Parable

She rubbed her tummy like it was a talisman
And she had become a fuzzy monster grape giantess
Pointing to her fruit, her fruit

Everybody wants to pick the grapes
Sweating under the low-hanging moon.

She rubbed her eyes and held her head down
And though she kept her mouth shut,
Before she knew it, she set everybody on fire

And she made sounds you couldn't understand
And they all grabbed her pink and scaly wrist
And they all wanted to slay the snap-dragon
With a gut full of currants

It's no fun picking raisins
Drying in the sun
Flaming from a pool.

I found them guarding the giantess
And sneering at the snap-dragon
Who was already dead.
They were standing on an overgrown hillside
Their feet were tangled in trampled vines.

Whose the sweetness? Whose the greening power?
Woe to those whose loving-kindness lasts but an hour.