Squash in Blossom
How lush, how loose, the uninhibited squash is.
If ever hearts (and these immoderate leaves
Are vegetable hearts) were worn on sleeves,
The squash's are. In green the squash vine gushes.
The flowers are cornucopias of summer,
Briefly exuberant and cheaply golden.
And if they make a show of being hidden,
Are open promiscuously to every comer.
Let the squash be what it was doomed to be
By the old Gardener with the shrewd green thumb.
Let it expand and sprawl, defenceless, dumb.
But let me be the fiber-disciplined tree
Whose leaf (with something to say in wind) is small,
Reduced to the ingenuity of a green splinter
Sharp to defy or fraternize with winter,
Or if not that, prepared in fall to fall.
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Comments about this poem (Squash in Blossom by Robert Francis )
- This ugly image هذه الصورة القبيحة, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Evil Intent, Abdul Malik Mandani
- This ugly image, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Sweet Ilussions, Sandra Feldman
- Weighting Each Thought, Heather Burns
- Their moral decline anytime انحدارهم ال.., MOHAMMAD SKATI
- A surrealistic image صورة سوريالية, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- In 80s, Nassy Fesharaki
- A Walk in the Woods, Abdul Malik Mandani
- Natural Alliance, Abdul Malik Mandani
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