My poem “Cherokee Purples” was just published by Red Eft Review. My thanks to editor Corey Cook.
…
Cherokee Purples
There’s melancholy in picking
the last of these heirlooms
before first frost. The May potential
of seedlings. Yellow blossoms,
then tiny green fruits, hard as marbles,
in July. Deep red beauties, bending stalks
under their weight, radiant and tender
to the touch in August and September,
harvested in threes and fours, starring
in salads, roasted with garlic, eaten
like apples. This small bounty—triumph
of urban farmers who nurture, stake,
feed, and brag about their crop
outgrowing cages to sprawl
across the neighbor’s fence. Oh, the pride
in sharing one or two with friends
who didn’t grow their own this year.
And finally in October, the wistful goodbye
to a generous friend whose final gifts
grace a windowsill to ripen, seeds salvaged
for spring planting.
Sarah Russell Poetry 