Waning garden in late summer sun,
standing, bare feet in soil,
the efficiency of a hornworm
on the lucky tiger tomato plant
I brought home from the farmer’s market
The seedling grew out of control
while we were away in July,
latent efforts to curtail its spread
there’s an overflowing bowl
of red-tinged harvest
on the kitchen table.
I decide to cede the branch
and the two partly-nibbled fruit
to the bright green caterpillar’s lunch.
Turning to the fading cosmos,
reaching out to grasp
a dried, star-like cluster,
previously a delicate white flower,
and marveling at the
seeds across my palm.
The potential for infinite
future seasons of blossoms
from a single bloom.
Pausing, drinking in this interruption
of scarcity-obsessed, commodified structures,
savoring this oasis of abundance,
while my breath becomes
a blessing and a prayer.