While we slept soundly in St. Louis after the World Series win,
mean-spirited night-walkers trespassed undetected in our front yard
and whisked away twenty or more farm grown pumpkins.
The pick of the bunch.
The plumpest pumpkins in autumn's finest hues.
Why so sad?
Each seed was sowed with expectation.
Weeded, watched and weighed in my mind since spring.
Weeded, watched and weighed in my mind since spring.
Clipped from tangled vines like babies from their umbilical cords.
Cradled one by one and wiped clean of earth, then
transported home and earmarked
as autumn gifts.
Robbed of the pleasure.
transported home and earmarked
as autumn gifts.
Robbed of the pleasure.
No comments:
Post a Comment