"August Tomatoes "

"August Tomatoes"

Greg Budig 2020

July has slid into August. 

Seamless, though 

somehow full of change. 

The heat  has spread

deep into the mosquito 

evening. Lingering into 

the sultry hours of night. 

Ripening in nature begins. 

Tomatoes are 

becoming like teenagers.

Developing hormones as 

they awkwardly mature. 

Ethylene mingles with 

the stagnant August air,

causing changes we have 

long for desired. 

Little green orbs that 

appeared in June, 

a sign that quickened 

your heart. Lovingly 

watched as the summer 

progressed, growing 

plumper and rounder 

each day. 

Monsoon rains in July 

caused the fruits to 

expand, they bloated 

like toads on the vine. 

They grew heavy and 

cracked, crowded in green 

clustered clumps, they 

battled for space in the cage. 

A certain paleness begins,

a yellowish hue, soon the 

color has changed to soft 

orange. The fat ones in 

the middle are the first 

ones to transform,

why are they always 

the hardest to reach?

Then the redness appears,

rich and tempting to 

the eye. Against the 

contrast of the green 

leaves and vines. 

Just wait another day!

A voice says inside, fight 

the urge, just let it go!

Now is the day!

Your hand finds the warm 

fruit, softly turning to 

break the thick stem.

Hold it up to the sun,

be amazed by the 

color. The fullness,

the roundness, the weight. 

Making the first slice,

for this you have waited,

your senses draw in 

the sweet smell. 

Like feasting on summer,

 flavors linger on your 

tongue, August tomatoes 

picked fresh from the vine. 

The End