tomatode

the lie that is
the conformity
of the supermarket
is unearthed
in my garden;
the tomatoes here
have names:
lemon boy,
early girl,
cherokee purple,
green zebra,
roma, sun sweet –

and shapes,
and colors,
and tastes –
oh, the deliciousness
that bursts
with my bite
as I stand
in the dirt
by the vines;
I can’t even wait
until I’m back
in the kitchen.

their talents
and uses
are as varied
as their tastes:
sauced, sliced,
sandwiched,
saladed;
summer’s gift
from spring’s
planting –
and enough
to share.

Peace,
Milton