This evening, the prompt was to write about an heirloom seed. I chose the Sleeping Beauty Cantaloupe.
These globes of sweetness
Nestle together as they ripen
in neat rows in West Texas.
Imagine spending all season,
A lifetime, hanging on the vine,
Cheek to cheek, rind to rind,
Basking in the glory of the sun.
How can such sweetness grow
Against this landscape of ruggedness,
Against the jagged mountains,
The unforgiving heat, this land
Of thorns, ticks, and snakes?
It’s her tough skin, her rind
That keeps the moisture
The sugar, the ginger flesh
Tucked away as she slumbers.
Do you imagine she’s dreaming
of the moment she’ll be plucked,
the kiss of the knife, the slicing open
at the meridian, the sweet sucking
of juices, the roll of a tongue
across the honeyed fruit, the teeth,
the slow slide down the throat,
the devouring, the moan.
Don’t be fooled. As she slumbers
There in her naked glory, pregnant
With seeds, she dreams of sweet rain,
The moist earth around her roots,
The kisskadees beak carrying pieces
of her into the blushing, burning sky,
the next generation of sugar and plenty for all.