when the time comes
i am not ready.
as in,
the ground beneath me is still dew-soft with summer
and i am just barely stretching awake
to a morning not yet frosted over. they grab my stem
(still green) and yank,
muttering words of indignation as my spotted
half-grown body refuses to pull free. serves them right,
i think, and settle deeper into the soil. it's not even halloween.
Posted in response to the challenge Pumpkin.
The East Wind is a rabbi in a darkened shul. He sits pored over the Torah scroll long into the night, his back bent like a cane. People come and go and come again, whispering prayers for the needy, the hungry, the sick.
my walk home.
the 4 p.m. sunset already lighting the shamash on the horizon,
melting the mountains like orange wax.
lunch with my friends, onion rings & coconut yogurt
I walk home wearing twin braids with bows
and a big smile because I'm wishing for snow.
Snow like a blanket, thick and white,
I want it to fall all through the night -
to cover the roads and the trees and the hills,
Comments
I adore the story you have filled in to this short poem. The description of "dew-soft with summer" as the pumpkin is "barely stretching awake" is incredibly life-instilling, and the ending sentence of "it's not even halloween" is such a great ending line. A series of poems like this one, about different food's perspectives, would be wonderful to read!
wow thank you so much!!!!! maybe i will write some more haha :p
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