Food For Thought

The sky has darkened before its time: a swarm of locusts, not a thunder-storm. To protect my tender crops I build foolish fires, burning everything handy. The smoke drives some away, kills some. The rest descend. Hosts of them camp in my head. Frenzied, I run about, stamping the earth with bare heels. I shout, clapping bits of tin to distract the devouring. When there is a famine within we shan't go completely hungry: we'll heap all the dead words and cook them. It is said they are delicious with rice and lentils. [From The Used Book]