Horticulturally lame
my garden, half-way through June
who knows how far into Midwestern
growing season

Weeds have a foothold
but we have managed to keep the bulk of
the interloping bastards at bay

One pumpkin plant with
two massive, yellow blossoms
each bigger than the plant itself
my subtle goal of two carvable in
October cultivar spheroids
one for my grandson, one for me
remains shakily on track

Pepper plants getting there
as are some varietal tomatoes
my wife and son planned their
first salsa garden
a bowl or two remains feasible

Ahh, tomatoes!
Umami, oh baby!

A phrase in current lexicon has me
scratching my head at mugs, shirts:
‘haters gonna hate,
potatoes gonna potate’

I question the organizational skills
of our tomatoes, trying to tomate

One plant, in just the past two days
has produced one, two, three…
nine green tomatoes, varying size
and already straining the plant which has
yet to reach my knee in height

Our cilantro so far cilant-no, the basil…?
my ever-blossoming optimisim says
there is still time for the thyme while
our bought-at-a-who-wants-em discount
brussel sprouts do Belgium proud

A rogue carrot is thriving

refuge from last summer via
the previous owners of this house
the past cultivators
of this charmingly uneven plot of
au natural urban agriculture

untouched, allegedly for
many years by chemical compounds
artificially truncating the unwanted
cajoling what is welcome to
come, stay

We are fortunate
that subsistence is not reliant on our
agricultural abilities

Though we could
in a fevered, pioneer pinch rely on
a fence line of wildly flourishing
rhubarb – ubiquitous, still replicating
already having provided
two batches of sauce, one pie

Ahh, but man does not live
by pie alone

Fortuitously my neighborhood has a
charming farmers market, a
grocery store with nice produce
and neighbors who,
in their Midwestern politeness
have not yet commented
on how my tomatoes tomate.

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2019
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