Working the farmers’ market. <br />Soap her earthy cosmetic, <br />clean country air for perfume, <br />pheromones fueling ardor’s fire. <br />Hands that pull vegetables <br />from the ground scrubbed <br />with the virtue of hard work. <br /> <br />Office women and shop girls <br />groomed to perfection, <br />weighted with consciousness, <br />pass the pumpkin girl, <br />meteors in empty space. <br />We take the hair tied back, <br />the sun blushed cheeks, <br />innocent sparkling farm girl eyes. <br />Recycled baggy clothes <br />hiding a centerfold’s body, <br />labor sculpted lean and hard. <br />Her smile awakens <br />the granite ancient seated <br />atop the nearby monument. <br /> <br />She has secrets to share <br />with those who might care - <br />the comfort of simplicity, <br />the smell of clean fertile earth, <br />the delight of seeds sprouting into life. <br />No need to improve on nature, <br />plain is as beautiful as need be. <br />Her rooster crows before sunrise <br />to declare a new better day. <br /> <br />Amidst bouquets of autumn flowers, <br />piles of fruits and vegetables, <br />the old men’s jazz band plays <br />“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine - <br />please don’t take my sunshine away.” <br />Children dance with feet possessed, <br />like water drops on a hot griddle. <br />The pumpkin girl sparkles <br />in the crisp sun kissed air.<br /><br />Duane Robert Pierson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-pumpkin-girl/
