Today is Wednesday,
the birth day of the cucumbers.
Under the netting
I see the jade green cotyledons,
moist from morning dew,
preparing to unfold by afternoon.
Born from a dream of trailing vines,
yellow starry blossoms,
enough bee visits
when finally male and female bloom at once.
then pickle fodder
Now that the plants have entered my world,
possible disasters abound.
That hulking grasshopper
I caught last week and
couldn’t bear to step on,
I threw him down in the gutter across the sidewalk.
His claws tickled my palm,
the husky body as long as my finger.
I thought maybe he’d die
but I suspect he’s back,
waiting to feast on succulent cucumber leaves.
lurk at the base of the twisting swiss chard towers,
ready to create havoc
though they call it breakfast.
I poked the seeds in Monday morning
and now I’m fully involved in the protection racket