ODE TO THE TOMATO

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,

uncontainable.

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.

Laugh.

Slurp.

Succumb.

~ mimi