And then, enters a cantaloupe which restores faith in all melon. So sweet, wet, ripe. But not overly. Perfect. So completely satisfying, you want to tell your friends to rush out and buy one as you know it too will be splendid.
And this is where poetry enters. You want to share ripe words with friends. Those few written this morning to honor spent tulips, knowing "spent" is not "rotten."
On Malisa's photo of Gabriel's birthday tulips
Chance & soil
brought these
tulips their wine-
cup contour.
Apply time,
they surrender --
beautiful
& perfectly
spent
But there were intervals of sweetness in springtime
ReplyDeletewhen out on the screened in porch
we shared a moment of peace over fruit slices
the insistence of denial was ripe in the air
and we all thought things might get better
the sound of silverware being cleared and washed
the empty rinds of fuller times tossed into the rose garden
I walked with the taste of lemon along the country road
counting the cars as they passed me