Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Watermelon

What summer pleasure is greater?
The bright green stripes of its ripeness
And a loud thwok to my knuckle,
Iced down in a cooler out back.
Go grab a sharp kitchen knife
And slice down deep into the center;
Reveal that sweet pink flesh
The brown seeds like buttons on its vest.
Take a big spoon from the drawer,
Sweet ambrosia on the vine;
I even like the rind,
Make me happy anytime,
Breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Late at night, before my head hits pillow
Wash the sweet, sticky juice off my arms and hands
Asleep from the draught of my Dixie wonder,
Pink pleasure of paradise.

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