lacking sibilant syllables
carrying a velocity of seeds
unknown in my que huong
we know the power of stalks
the sheer upright growth of corn
but our fruit is shy
perhaps taking too seriously the tale of
that first garden
my friends gifted me
the unknown species
plucked as soon as possible
some incarnadine skinned
others forever dangling between green and
yellow
not plush, but yielding their own secrets
despite my tongue's inability to squinch
out new syllables
sounds and tastes
from a new garden
Author Bio:
Mary E. Croy lives in Madison, Wisconsin where she works as an administrative assistant. She spent nine years teaching English Language Learners in Ha Noi, Viet Nam. During her free time, Mary likes reading poetry and hanging out with her cats, Buster and Gabby. Poetry is an ongoing passion and she participates in writing groups spanning the country-one based in Reedsburg, WI and the other in Nokomis, FL.