It’s two days after Summer Solstice
raspberry light swells around the distant pines.
My snow peas which I pressed into the ground
in April now stretch and spindle up twine,
five feet high and three feet wide.
The procrastination has ended
in a combustion of cream blooms
and plump green legumes!
The taste of them takes me back
to every June and July: the crunch,
the ample juice, the sugar sweeter
than watermelon. Don’t cook them,
just snap them in your teeth.
At 50 I don’t get excited about much,
mostly things like this. Laughing at
my daughter’s humor, rubbing my wife’s back.
I try to snap a photo at the perfect angle.
But it is not the residue that matters,
nor the memory saved. It is enough
to dehisce each new pod in my mouth
right off the vine.
As an RN in the great Pacific Northwest, Scott Ferry helps our Veterans heal. In other lives, he taught English and practiced acupuncture. He also serves as Senior Editor at Gleam: Journal of the Cadralor, and his writing appears in American Journal of Poetry, Cultural Weekly, KYSO Flash, MacQueen’s Quinterly, Misfit, Noble/Gas Qtrly, Slippery Elm, Spillway, and Swimming with Elephants, among others. His first collection, The only thing that makes sense is to grow, was published by Moon Tide Press in December 2019. His second book, Mr. Rogers kills fruit flies, is now available from Main Street Rag.