the garden harvest
of zucchini, gourds, melons, and pumpkins
the last stalks of corn lean a little, and sway in the cool air
tomatoes scatter the ground,
bounteous gifts of summer
little red packages full of zest and flavor
eaten with mayonnaise, plain or with bacon on toast
after a long mulching
words come to me
a cornucopia of experiences
I never thought to divide among friends
a poem garden
cultivated from years of reading, reading, reading
keeping a journal
telling stories
little packages on paper, Gifts!
like shared beans and cucumbers
not all appreciate the excess
but I am compelled to give
to ‘bottle’ up and preserve
each scrap, each morsel
that may be savored in lean times
what if there were a famine?
no more written words?
what if my well goes dry
and there is no water witch
to help me divine my way?
I write
my soul
and the lives I see
feeding the hungry
and those who have no words of their own
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