The tomatoes cool themselves
in the long breezes,
hoarding in their flesh
In the dry season, they are red cups
drinking summer light.
Late August, they grow lustrous,
dense in wild, scarlet clusters.
I have come for them
with a basket and a knife,
my thirst ripened.
Picked, they shine in my hand
like wet stones, their skin like ours
burnished after love.
Richard Hedderman is a multi-Pushcart Prize nominee and author of two poetry collections including, most recently,Choosing a Stone (Finish Line Press). His work has been published in dozens of journals both in the U.S. and abroad. He has served as a guest poet at the Library of Congress, and performed his writing with the Boston Symphony Orchestra. He lives in Milwaukee. More of his work can found on his website.Discover more from Richard Hedderman.