Quintessential backyard gardener’s treasure
jewel colored finds below, between, beneath verdant lace.
I recall a story from the Depression about a car ride and you salt and peppering bread
wistfully imagining ripe tomatoes slices while exuding gratitude for the meal you were
about to partake in.
This is a blessing I imagine over and over;
To have something rather than nothing and be grateful for everything.
I mean even the Mortgage Lifter with its humble seedling roots created something right
up out of the dirt.
How many were blessed with the seeds and knowledge there are great gains in small
On my knees I am thankful, with dirt under my nails I bow my head in reverence.
I can smell the leaves in my mind.
The sun warms my thoughts.
You sold the tomatoes we grew in the dirt next to the stoop to the health food store.
I never remembered that, not even after you told me so.
They knew how special those tomatoes were.
And they were different.
Those were filled with love and history.
But I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
I carefully sliced the tomatoes you bought me and laid them out on bread with
mayonnaise and cheese.
I even had cilantro I snipped and sprinkled into place.
I put the sandwich on a plate and stood at the counter and prayed.
Thank you for this food.
If a seed can bring a plant to the light and bear fruit,
I can do this and have gratitude
And maybe even have a potted tomato plant of my own.
There is hope in this.