To a nightshade berry

Red and full,

With sweet, sun ripened curves,

The tomato stands proud amongst vegetables.

Yes we all know you are really a fruit

A berry, to be exact

But that doesn’t change what we call you,

A vegetable, and the queen of them.

No other can make a sauce so rich,

So tantalizingly sweet and savory,

Blended with hot garlic and fresh garden herbs.

None can make a salad so memorable,

Adding bright accents and tender texture.

Really, though, you are best eaten by yourself,

Cut into fat slices with just a bit of salt and pepper

Every forkful a tempting bite of summer.

Sky Man

There’s a man sitting on a bench

Who has seen the back of the sky.

For three years he would ascend

And soar in the heavens

Looking down on the earth

And dropping flames on it.

Still remembers how it felt

The smell of the heat of engine

The lush green jungle below

The roar from below when his payload hit.

He doesn’t remember the screams

The way his enemy would flail as he burned to death;

He was too high above for that, too removed,

Or he just couldn’t look, couldn’t bear to.

He knew what would happen, though,

Knew what those chemicals would do to a man,

And he would see it when he sleeps.

He still does, and that’s why,

Every night,

He goes out to sit,

And be awake.