Ode to Summer Squash

There is no pleasurelike picking the first vegetables of the season.
This morning wet, muddy.
Summer squash, it was.
Prickly leaves, like floppy summer hats, pushed out of the way.

How could just two days make such a difference? Look how big and bright.
Five. Lemon-yellow, bumps of Braille on theirskin. Not a blemish anywhere.
Three are too big. Would I buy you at the store? Absolutely not.
I’d reach for the...

...

devour more»