In Benidorm there are melons, <br />Whole donkey-carts full <br /> <br />Of innumerable melons, <br />Ovals and balls, <br /> <br />Bright green and thumpable <br />Laced over with stripes <br /> <br />Of turtle-dark green. <br />Chooose an egg-shape, a world-shape, <br /> <br />Bowl one homeward to taste <br />In the whitehot noon : <br /> <br />Cream-smooth honeydews, <br />Pink-pulped whoppers, <br /> <br />Bump-rinded cantaloupes <br />With orange cores. <br /> <br />Each wedge wears a studding <br />Of blanched seeds or black seeds <br /> <br />To strew like confetti <br />Under the feet of <br /> <br />This market of melon-eating <br />Fiesta-goers.<br /><br />Sylvia Plath<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fiesta-melons/
