New England Diary

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Don't pick me yet!

Tomato flower.

"The whiskey stink of rot has settled

in the garden, and a burst of fruit flies rises 

when I touch the dying tomato plants. 

 

Still, the claws of tiny yellow blossoms

flail in the air as I pull the vines up by the roots 

and toss them in the compost.'' 

 

-- From "September Tomatoes,'' by Karina Borowicz