The tomatoes are struggling.
Early frosts have made the quest
for ripeness instead a hard scrabble
for autumn survival. Leaves yellow
and the veins stand out – green
tributaries of a leaking river-system.
We stroke their knobby stems
and press our lips to the fruit
to coax a little more colour
into their cheeks. A week more,
and we will harvest them.
Fill store-cupboards with jars,
a piggybank of memories
of this too-short summer.
Ok, it’s not earth-shattering. A quick-and-dirty draft, using ReadWritePoem prompt #27. Very simple: make a poem using as many (or as few) of the following words as you like:
The mind boggles!
(And after it’s finished boggling, it tries to draft a poem.)