Cleaning Tomatoes
They sat in a large blue bowl all afternoon,
In tap water and stillness.
She cleaned them that evening.
She did not see the little cuts, not the gaping brown sores.
She did not see the dirt specs float down the spirling drain.
She saw perfection as it was, hard-won, with just reward.
One bite as brilliant as the sun.
Copyright © Nancy Beckman | Year Posted 2021
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