A Turnip

I tested crawling long time before I walked.
And I spoke gibberish long time before talk.
I had time for only things made of magic
--that's all I could do.

 

Once upon a time, I spat out a bite of turnip
fresh pulled, Oklahoma, from hand tilled soil.
And it's so grandpa's fault now that I am found
wearing overalls.

And since ground was made for planting of tubers,
the sky was for youngsters and spit-up turnips;
all else, believe you me, was fashioned from their
amulgamation.

And don't it seem the congealed stuff of stars was made
from food plucked from the earth then spat into space?
Food and I go back a long way.  Where would I be
today without food?

Confession:  I also huffed the air here
                   at an early age.  Now I can't stop breathing.
                   Since than my breath has become much needier
                   in the universe.