This morning, as I cut into <br />the tough flesh of the huge tomato <br />with its brown, half-healed scar <br />like an old sabre wound from some great battle, <br /> <br />the thought came, if you can call <br />a vegetable, heroic, and why not, <br />then this old bruiser is a hero… <br /> <br />its red proud chest so stalwart set, <br />saying, I saw the season through.. <br />come rain, come shine, come wind <br />and foul weather - what’s going on these days? – <br /> <br />I saw it all – and more than that – <br />I grew it – my way… and if they said, <br />as mortals do – <br />as if they knew a tom that’s true – <br />you’re not for us – I’ll say to you – <br />I saw two thousand seven through - <br />I lived it – my way…<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-hero-of-his-clime/
