the tomato vine grew thick and strong
its felt stem pressing into the cedar fence
that held it so securely.
a hand reached for a promising ripe fruit
palming its dense sunwarmed flesh.
with a twist the orb snapped from the vine
revealing it's hidden sin.
an infestation of sweet seeking ants
tumbled out of a split in its flesh,
an infestation hidden to the casual eye.
with a breath of disappointment
the vegetation was slung beyond the fence.
lips pressed together the gardener moved on
there would be a harvest in time.
PAD 15: infestation poem
(& the disappointment of expectations unmet /aka/ there is a certain beauty in the empty glass)