alfalfa

A word that waves in the wind. Two straight stalks, two bent stalks, and even row spacing between, and said with a susurration like that of a reaper scything the rows or chaff sifting in the wafting air. Its duality declares a half and half, with a residual undertone of a young Michael Caine and a more dominant overtone of a littler rascal. Although this word might carry a dry cerealy air, when it is found in company it sprouts green and is stirred and fried. Its Arabic echoes may not be illusion; Spanish spice is certainly present, and gives it a much drier, warmer and sunnier presence than the Lucerne its referent is otherwise known as.