Thoughts of a Calabash Tree

I was loving the sun, Not consciously doing anything My gourds hanging sweetly, Too big to move much Dancing with internal mirth Because I was being picked today It is always a relief to a calabash When the pickers arrive I heard laughter and stood a bit taller Glad I could see farther than bushes But no one showed, so I knew It was not the pickers. I sat back and enjoyed the love of the sun a little longer, excited the gourds would be going to new homes today, knowing they would love being bird houses and decorations Feeling sad for the ones who would be turned into tobacco pipes They are all my children, I want them all to breathe and enjoy the sun...