Denouement: Haiku

You know it's a good week for me with regard to a prompt if I don't have to look up its definition. I remember how the word rolls off my tongue. I recall my English teacher my junior year of high school, Mr. Axelrod, having us practice saying it. It's quite likely he paid more attention to our pronunciation of the word than he did to its use in our own writing or to our ability to define it in others'. De-noue-ment. Day-nu-moi.

Why Ron Axelrod comes to mind 30 years later is puzzling. [Okay, yeah, it's 31 years later.] Perhaps it's the time of year: school is wrapping up, the weather is nice, high school seniors are about ready to wet themselves in anticipation of just being done. Thirty years from now, they might just realize that they weren't really finishing something. Their high school graduation wasn't the climax. The rest of their lives wasn't the denouement.

All this as introduction to a poem wholly unrelated. My apologies, merci beaucoup.

Lovingly nurtured

from seed to plant to table.

Composting out back.

Truly less a straight plot line and more a circular one. The gardens we've planted will feed not only us but the compost as well, which, in turn, will feed the gardens. And so on and so on. But were the meal the climax of our gardening attempts, surely the denouement would be the tying burying of loose ends in the compost.

[Another circular, boring post brought to you by the maker of circular, boring posts. Now, go read some real poets at One Single Impression.]