I’m tired. It has been a horrible week. I’m so glad the work part is over so we can work on resting up ourselves. Girls night. My parents are here, helping out with getting the girls to school, so Mom and took the girls to the last Farmer’s Market of the season, then made homemade pizzas (mine was goat cheese and tomatoes and basil), and then snuggled with the girls in my bed and watched Project Runway. It was good. I’m feeling a little scratchy in the throat and headachy, so I’m doing this fast and going to bed. I love bed, and I haven’t spent nearly enough time there this week.
So, a fast poem tonight.
Last of the Season in Hope, ID
This is the last of the season.
We bought two gourds, some potatoes for the soup,
some blueberries, some late strawberries, and honey.
We took a picture of a mushroom shaped like a heart,
or a butt, depending on how you look. Leaves do the same thing,
it’s all about perspective.
And hearts get upside down too, sometimes,
and it would be easy to get stuck there. But the harvest is now.
And I will enjoy it twice,
once for me, and once for you.
I just now figured out how to format. 250 poems later. This is a bit sappy, and chicken-soupy, but hey. Happy Thursday, poemfriends.