October in My Heart

It was only last week,
sun so hot, I wore only sandals
and my favorite summer  dress.
Today I found the big wool sweater,
hauled it out of the drawer,
while the farmer across the road,
plowed under all his strawberries for good.

The pathogens have ended it.
You can still barely detect,
the sweet red berry smell
lingering over the fields.

I will miss
evenings in summer,
walking through those rows with a glass of wine.
Tasting the Bentons against the Hoods, the Shucksans against the Firecrackers
Never the sensation will leave me
of walking up the hill, arms heavy with berries,
 so ripe they are dripping red juice,
through the slats of my grandmother's basket.

Farmer Joe,
you have managed to plow before the rain,
working methodically, steadily as I wander into and out of
my housework.
I want to run down and tell you I think it all stinks,
lawsuits against people who dare to grow a little food
Every effort is a risk

 For days now the young people
dare to "occupy Wall Street".
Soon it will get colder, and I worry like a mother.

I watch the rain and ponder, putting on the right gear
to walk down the hill for more tomato harvest.
I'll think of those in tents, being kicked around.
I'll send them a red ripe sweet tomato in my thoughts
I'll keep the fires burning
As winter closes in...