Zucchini
There is no such thing as enough.
There is only too much.
You plant a small hill
the seeds sprout as you sleep.
Next morning vines embrace the garden
leaves open like beach umbrellas.
Tiny green fingers turn to boats
before you can pick them.
You begin to pray that deer
will invade, that birds will develop
a taste for them, but they want only
the strawberries, the tender corn.
You finally admit there is not enough flour
in the world to bake all that zucchini bread.
The last will be tossed with lawn
clippings and fall leaves to feed
next year’s garden, when despite
experience, you will plant zucchini.
