Fresh


The produce stand is a very fine place
To find whatever vegetables or fruits
Your heart desires.

The quantities are great
And when the goods are fresh,
There is no finer sight.

But beware the hint of mould,
The softened spot, the edges turning brown.

Like all things found
Below the circuit of the sun,
Our produce is ordained to perish in the end.

We must consume it while we can,
And in its prime.

If we gather our harvest in the proper season,
Nothing is sweeter, more full of flavour,
Or more satisfying.


©2016 Michael Fraley




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