Tomatoes ripen
in the shyness of the night,
burst
their red (or yellow) in morning’s
“Pick
me! Pick me!” demanding attention
like
all newly ripened and ready—
vegetables,
children, or fruit—
raspberries
the tender first-borns,
zucchini
lie content and grow
blimpish
as the neglected child,
gaming
days away in chip fed orgies.
No
wonder we use the word “blush”
In
describing freshness found
With
the choicest of harvest pickings.
Meals
should best match the eater
Before
stomach cramps in confusion
Over
mismatched temperaments.
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