Last Chance Run For Pumpkins

Posted by on 10.31.07 | 2 Comments
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My son and I circle the patch,
trip on mounds, laugh from the gut

thrill with the sunshine

and abundant orange luck.

That one. That one?

That one.

We thump them for their tone,

heft them for their weight.

I would plant myself alongside these pumpkins

if only the sunlight at play

in the cornstalks would stream

like this forever, transforming

my son’s straw hair into halo.

We cart off six fairy tale coaches,

load them in our trunk carefully.

Thick skins put on a tough front.

They are ripe and easily broken with a drop.

I tell my son, they’re fragile.

He cradles his favorite pumpkin

in his three-year-old arms,

lavishes paternal tenderness, pride,

the same way he feeds green bills

into the hand-lettered honor box.

We drive home into the sunlight

our treasures piled high in the trunk.

I imagine my life hefted from this land someday

to be tested, thumped and deemed worthy,

even if I am lopsided, pointy bottomed.

I want to be chosen enthusiastically,

carried away by one who knows

that as easy as we are to pick

each one of us is fragile.

I will be posting a monthly column on the Virtual Tea House, and regular poems. If you’d like to visit my website, please visit: http://www.wordwoman.com

I will have my blog here on the VTH working soon so you can view my bio. Looking forward to ‘meeting’ you!

Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

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