Such sweet-headed people going into the
village bakery. They bump into each other
along the counters in the morning when the
trays of pies, colored cakes, and fluffed-up
pastries arrive from the ovens, like bees
drawn to sugar.
They grab for what is dainty and tasty,
paying any price, as the midnight crew
tending the ovens slips out the back,
leaving behind the results of their
My vegetable garden has no such favor
and distinction, despite a miraculous growth
from sun and other magnificent, barely
understood forces, bringing forth radishes and
zucchinis of extraordinary shape and color.
My visitors from the mountain country
go to the bakery and leave me home,
where I water, weed and watch
the slow, new growth that has been
happening in the passing evening.