Fielding's pen had Tom Jones's watering mouth
make the simple pear a passion fruit.
Ever after, eating pears has been
an intimacy shared by lovers.
And yet it is a public behavior
free from censorship.
What then of the Farmer's Market in the fall?
Is there no Fielding around to record
this too good
to not be a sinful scene?
Does no one notice
this orgy of harvest bounty?
More than pears, melons
are luscious and full.
Tomatoes ripened on the vine,
sweet for eating.
Grapes rouged
and tightly bunched sit next to
mounds of that useless beauty ,
Pope's Hat Squash.
Quail eggs all too delicate
close to spicy
and varied peppers and chilies.
They are a ballerina slipper
cuddled to a logger's boot.
Cool green cucumbers and corn
phalluses surrounded by purple plums.
Solomon's ripe, round pomegranates
is his metaphor
for youthful breasts
are piled high.
Bread and coffee smells touch the nose.
Sounds from tables
sell political candidates
and morning sun hits treetops
like Showtime spotlights.
Yellow and red leaves,
talented stage crew.
The scene is set
for sensual flooding.
Warm wool hats a reminder that
after fall
comes the long cold winter.
Time for a last feast.
Feed the eyes,
the imagination
and, perhaps, the palate.
Fall is the warmest time of year,
the warmth of the sensual.
Doug Minnis-1993