Green, prickly, brown-splotched, ugly, grown like a thistle.
The artichoke grows from a seed, it won't grow from a cutting.
A simple artichoke has a multitude of seeds,
But all of the seeds will not germinate, only the body will reproduce.
Each seed must use with all the others for its share of the right soil.
The seed must be tough.
Born from a tough seed, the artichoke is also touch.
Steaming for a precise amount of time will make it tender,
Time not measured in minutes of seconds but by a worrying interval,
Exactly enough time to tenderize the tough heart and burst it open.
The heart of the artichoke is not easy prey,
Transformed to tenderness by well-planed steaming,
The once tough, brown-splotched thistle is eagerly devoured.
No passing thought is given to its green, prickly origin.
No awareness of its intrinsic toughness is evident.
Steaming tough hearts to tenderness as a prelude to annihilation
It the genteel way of ridding the world of prickly thistles.