Plantolia

Plantolia After Retirement
by Overbort Aerobee-em-bee

On Planet Plantolia, beneath a violet sun,
Old Autumn-Sage declared his working days done.
He polished his roots, stretched each leaf with great art,
Then opened his screen with a sigh and a start.

“Another AI landscape for Planet Magazine—
With moons made of marmalade, forests neon-green!
A tentacled tulip, a chrome caterpillar—
Why, this one’s a masterpiece! Better—no, thriller!”

His Flame-Acanthus wife, with a blossom of flame,
Was stirring a stew while she called out his name:
“Dear Sage, you retired, but you’ve not moved an inch—
Except to make space-art while I season the mince!”

The kitchen was fragrant with roast meteor-meat,
With comets of gravy and tubers to eat;
She flipped sizzling steaks with a thorny green spoon,
While Sage made more planets that looked like the moon.

“You promised,” she said, with a warm fiery glare,
“To prune the sky-vines and repair the porch stair.
Instead you make pictures of squid wearing hats,
And robots who picnic with luminous cats!”

Old Sage gently blinked through his spectacles round:
“But art is important—it makes the world sound!
My prompts must be tended, my pixels must grow;
I’m cultivating visions wherever they flow.”

She paused, then she laughed as the roast gave a pop:
“Well, cultivate dishes—or your artwork must stop!
Now set out the plates, and fetch fizzberry tea;
A plant man needs chores, not just galaxies free.”

So Sage put down stylus and screen with a grin,
And carried the plates while his wife served the din.
Then later, well fed, in their soft moonlit room,
He made her a portrait—her bright petals in bloom.

And Flame-Acanthus smiled, though she tried to look stern:
“Tomorrow you’ll weed, and you’ll water the fern.”
Old Sage nodded wisely: “That’s fair, my dear dove—
For art may be splendid, but chores also love.”

About the Author : Overbort Aerobee-em-bee plants meat for his wife.
About the Artist : Romeo Esparrago likes his medium rare.