Pumpkin Pondering
Carry it like a babe in arms,
Or asymmetrical soccer ball.
Marvel at its inner chamber;
Threaded seeds sleep in its room.
Consider its genetic detail,
Its encrypted secret code:
Copies made for generations,
Manuscripts illuminated -
Still unknown.
The silent child sees Cinderella
Riding in her pumpkin coach.
The artist sees its painted jacket,
Sleek and smooth.
And now, it’s time to sit and eat it –
Orange, baked and sweet,
Remembering other Sunday dinners -
Now, all gone.
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