So here's the last of the tomatoes. Aren't they gorgeous? And extra-special, as it's the last the garden will give, at least this season. It makes me think of words like red and ripe and ready. Savor and succulent and sweet. Vine and fine and climb.
Delicious. And oh so poem-worthy. (I myself have written two poems in the past week that include tomatoes.)
"We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses."