Winter Promises

Tomatoes rosy as perfect baby's buttocks,
eggplants glossy as waxed fenders,
purple neon flawless glistening
peppers, pole beans fecund and fast
growing as Jack's Viagra-sped stalk,
big as truck tire zinnias that mildew
will never wilt, roses weighing down
a bush never touched by black spot,
brave little fruit trees shouldering up
their spotless ornaments of glass fruit:

I lie on the couch under a blanket
of seed catalogs ordering far
too much. Sleet slides down
the windows, a wind edged
with ice knifes through every crack.
Lie to me, sweet garden-mongers:
I want to believe every promise,
to trust in five pound tomatoes
and dahlias brighter than the sun
that was eaten by frost last week.

by Marge Piercy

Comments (3)

I think every gardener knows this feeling
Another great poem with such vivid imagery. Feel as if I'm sitting on the other end of that couch waiting fr her to throw me the finished catalog! What a talented poet!
Yay for this poem that uses fruit and flowers without cliche! this one makes me smile AND sigh(and look forward to Spring) .