tomato

The tomatoes, she says, are ready today
to be plucked from their grey green chains,
and placed in your wicker basket.
Through the window I can see them
they dangle there against the unpainted fence,
in a burst of uneven red, exulting among the leaves,
and waiting for the sun to shift in the sky.
She asks me to bring in six tomatoes, fully ripe
so that she may slice them thinly for our lunches.

This Vignette was inspired by my grandmother's small garden