As I spent Wednesday morning pulling up out beautiful-but-dying tomato plants--no longer able to withstand the encroaching London winter--I thought it would be appropriate to write about them this week. I am already missing their leafy tops peaking over the bathroom window sill.
Also, as I've embarked as this poetry month long adventure with one particular, tomato-growing sasqitoon, this is also in honor of her inspiration.
An excerpt from today's rambling:
Then May, you came into view.
Slava peaked its head first, followed by
Black Prince and his brother, Krim.
Young Flamme came with an
unpronounceable Christian name, and
the German we nicknamed Blondie.
Sebastopol was the most surprising,
offering little to start other than a reminder
of home, but when the summer months blew in
and you each received your own room--
boy, did you blossom a plenty!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
So lovely and reverential. Sometime in the next few days I also need to get out and pull up the husks of this year's plants... it is always my least favorite part of the process, but your meditation on remembering them helps.
Post a Comment