Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Photo by S. Auberle
Remember the day you planted them?
Waiting and waiting for the time
that was just right,
no more frost in the air?
Then the tender days
when, impatiently, you lingered,
checking daily, but
they simply lay there, bent to the ground,
though unseen green fire
coursed through them
as they gained strength to stand alone,
tentatively at first, soon strong and proud.
Finally, yellow flowers
shyly began to emerge, like small stars,
the first signs of tomato...
and you whispered to them, tenderly,
weeded and coaxed, inhaled
their pungent aroma, like no other,
till at last...voila!
First tiny fruits appear,
the rain falls, August sun beats down,
green globes begin to hang heavy.
By now your impatience is immense,
You yearn for red, even pink will do.
Yet still, the tomato says wait...
Like love, the love apple cannot be rushed,
it comes in its own time
and there is nothing you can do about it.
At last one day,
you and the tomato are ripe.
Your taste buds are quivering
with anticipated ecstasy.
Finally, that first, sun-warmed bite!
Let the seeds and juices
flow down your chin.