Cherry Tomatoes
It is late morning, and a string of washing is waving on the line
Clothes look like colorful flags flapping in the wind.
I'm watching her, as she captures and pokes a stray wisp of grey hair,
back into the braid she wears, knotted into a bun on the back of her head...
She's wearing those sturdy black shoes, those opaque cotton hose
and a corn-flowered blue dress of calico
She has a smile of satisfaction, and her eyes are as clear and blue as the sky
Summer sun is shining
...she walks to the garden, and begins to pick vegetables
Her flowered apron is folded into a hammock
and is overflowing with cucumbers, tomatoes, and bell peppers...
Quickly, into her mouth, she pops a warm cherry tomato....
straight from the vine,....a juicy, red marble
She picks two or three, along with a weed,
while I sit like a drone in, that old tire throne
that dangles and sways from the old Cottonwood tree...
"Try these, dear"...she says..."They are delicious....sweet as sugar on a Sunday morn"
She holds one out to me, and I taste this juicy morsel of goodness...
Before she goes inside, she clutches the apron closed ...
then with one hand reaches down
and gently pets the old hound, who sleeps in the shade
and somehow, the vision of her begins to fade,
As hard as I try.....it is fading....and then I hear the sound of an airplane overhead...
Suddenly, I am standing in my garden,
and the cherry tomatoes in my pail are shining in the sun
and juice is lingering in my mouth....sweet as sugar on a Sunday morn....
and I feel warm glow of satisfaction under the summer sun
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