sacrifical fruit

sacrifical fruit

at least once a season,

i sacrifice a tomato.

 

i watch shades of green transform

into an ombre of yellow, orange, red

til finally, overripe on the vine,

it falls to the ground.

i offer it back to the land

as a thank you,

an homage to the cycle of life

from which humans are often so far separated.

 

i watch it soften,

losing its taut, round shape

as morning dew and July sun leave their mark

i witness a lucky robin,

just a week or two past fledgling,

learning that my garden provides more

than ants and isopods.

she munches away,

feet from where she first left the nest.

i let her feast,

grateful for her safety

under a canopy of tomato leaves.

 

i have hope she'll return

when the flowers go to seed,

when the landscape begins to go dormant

to learn that i left the heads on the sunflowers

for the perfect winter snack.

to discover i cut back the black eyed susans,

the roses, and the echinacea,

but i leave their stalks behind,

piled high in the garden

for pollinating insects to nest

and young birds to seek shelter.

 

maybe next year,

when i sacrifice another tomato,

she will show her offspring

the hidden bounty offered here

 

at least once a season,

i sacrifice a tomato.

 

8/17/24

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