This is what happens when an English teacher has a lack of books to review and a surplus of bruschetta to eat. Enjoy!
O king and lord of all the garden's fruit,
And harbinger of summer's golden days:
Without the benefit of harp and lute,
Thy lowly servant humbly sings thy praise.
To bubbling sauces thou dost bring rich life;
Or summer soups, sipped slowly by the pool.
Thy slices fall, slain warriors, by my knife;
In sandwiches, thou art the Golden Rule.
I dream of thee as winter's days stretch on
And blanket green with white, bleak mile by mile;
When every vestige of thy root is gone,
Thy scarlet lobes and crevices beguile.
But dreams of thee, like birds, must travel south;
Tomato, thou art happiest in my mouth.
Feeling poetic? Tell us how you feel about the arrival of fall, the end of summer, or whatever the seasons have brought you!
Did you really write that Emily???? Wow, I’m impressed. My neighbor just brought us about 5 different varieties of tomatoes. We had some fresh mozzarella in our frig and had a feast of end of summer tomatoes. Your sonnet is timely and sweet!
I hate the end of summer. It is already turning colder here and I noticed my veggies are slowing down. I wrote about the end of summer too on my blog. (Not as poetic...)
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Did you really write that Emily???? Wow, I’m impressed. My neighbor just brought us about 5 different varieties of tomatoes. We had some fresh mozzarella in our frig and had a feast of end of summer tomatoes. Your sonnet is timely and sweet!
I hate the end of summer. It is already turning colder here and I noticed my veggies are slowing down. I wrote about the end of summer too on my blog. (Not as poetic...)
Anna http://www.green-talk.com.
Pure poetry.