The summer sun is red
and ripe for the picking.
Humidity hangs its
veil
between the trees
buzzing with cicadas.
Lush and tumbling,
the garden
spills
from the earth.
Amidst the greens and golds,
the juicy beating heart
of July
hangs from the vine.
Lifeblood of the kitchen,
sacrificed with
seedy grace,
the tomato
blesses our plates.
The summer sun
shines its benevolent
flavor
upon our table laden
with harvest.
Eat, drink, and be merry;
for tomorrow brings
frozen marinara.
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