Jude Roy - Poem

Me, Momma, Daddy, and Sister
sit in a semi-circle 
on the gallery--
Eat watermelon.
Spit seeds toward the rusted chicken wire fence,
where one grows over time--
missed by the sharp-eyed jays.

A premature flower flashes.
Then dies.
Others take her place--pearl white, fragile--
wave proudly, bravely
in the early autumn wind.

Soon all the flowers drop--
replaced by small
green bulbs.

The plant,
clings tightly to the chicken wire fence--
Directs all its energy to the swelling bulbs,
already pregnant
with the tiny black seeds
that will insure survival.

But the first frost comes with its message of death,

and the seeds
never feel the blade--

Never feel the freedom of flight 
	from gallery to fence--

Never feel the comfort of snuggling
	among the grasses--safe from sharp-eyed jays---

Never feel the security of being anchored 
	in the soft rich earth.

Safe on the gallery from frigid north winds,
Me, Mom, Dad, and Sister mourn 
the passing of the season of seeds.