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Monday, April 7, 2014

A Salad Poem



You dream the aroma
of a ripe tomato,
the twist and snap and green smell
of vine and sun-warmed hands.
It's all there in the seed,
or sapling bedded in loam.
You count forward-time,
hot days and long months,
until the plant hangs heavy,
a bowl returns full,
until you slice and salt
and pair
with half-moons of 
oozing cheese,
knee-buckling at
the sweet, hot swallow
of acid and saliva.
It’s all there,
as you tear open the package.
sprinkle the seeds.
Press them into egg carton cups.
A repository for summer,
an incubator of earth to mouth,
a sauce, a salsa, a sandwich.
You brush dirt over with your finger,
and feel the promise of wait.

What can I say?  It was a really long winter.  My feet are still cold.  In spite of the fact that my daughter has informed me she likes all my blog posts, except for the poems,well, a girl has to treat herself.  Daydreaming about a tomato brought me closer to a summer garden. 

16 comments:

Old Kitty said...

Awwww hope your daughter loved this poem cos it's lovely! Who thought a humble tomato would promise so much! Yay!! Well done you and thanks for sharing! Take care
x

Dianne K. Salerni said...

I'm not much of a gardener, but you've made me want to plant tomatoes asap!

Robin said...

I've got tomatoes in the garden right now. One in a Topsy Turvy planter, which I have not tried before. Two others in the ground. And a WHOLE BUNCH in egg carton peat cups. My goal this year is actually to do a spring, summer, and fall planting. I didn't plant the tomatoes early enough in the peat cups for the spring planting, so I have TONS for summer. I imagine I will be giving some away. Of course, my kill rate is fairly high, so I have to plant A LOT to get ANY.

Alex J. Cavanaugh said...

I'm craving a salad now. Only if I don't have to pick the ingredients though.

Jan Morrison said...

This is a fabulous poem! The imagery, the sensory detail, and most of all the idea of it has me salivating for both a garden and my pen!

Bish Denham said...

It's spring here, trees are leafing out, but with this terrible drought (year five now) we have no lawn, no garden... and flowers are sparse. I envy your ability to plant and see things grow and produce.

Susan Gourley/Kelley said...

LOL. My feet are still cold too. I don't care for tomatoes but I always plant some for my husband.

Ann said...

Really captures the anxiousness of the gardener to sink their hands in the earth. Beautiful.

mshatch said...

There's nothing like a really great tomato. Cold here, too. And wet.

Yvonne Osborne said...

My tomatoes are starting to sprout! The first tender little shoots hold such promise, as you have so succulently portrayed! I love half moons of oozing cheese!

Misha Gericke said...

Hope summer comes soon for you.

I'm looking forward to winter. :-)

Jennifer Shirk said...

Oh yeah! I'm ready for some fresh veggies and flowers now!

Empty Nest Insider said...

I will never look at salads the same way again! What a fresh spin that is ripe for the tasting! Sorry, it's the middle of the night! Excellent poem, Liza!

Julie

JJ said...

You are certainly using those "words to their maximum potential." I am your newest follower.

klahanie said...

Hi Liza,

First of all, delighted to make your acquaintance :)

Your poem delights the senses. Winter be gone and spring brings a rebirth and a mighty fine salad awaits.

I reckon your daughter likes your prose :)

Have a peaceful Sunday.

Gary

Madeline Mora-Summonte said...

Love this! I'm not a gardener but after reading this, I wish I was. Yum! :)

Thanks for visiting my blog the other day!