Patching things together

pumpkin1Growing up on a small farm, rural Minnesota
space was scarce, times were lean and the land was life
ma and pa granted my brother, sister and I a small plot
every spring in which to plant and nurture pumpkins;
sibling sharecroppers, we repaid mom by growing
enough extra pumpkins for her to fulfill familial
pie making duties through Thanksgiving, Christmas
and in good years, four or five quarts of canned squash

Indentured, we were, for the privilege of creating
toothless, carved fright for amusement every October
we grew two big pumpkins each, thinning the runts as
we saw fit, channeling growing energy into the larger,
bumpier, more potentially grotesque orange oddities
just for a month of autumnal family horror-ticulturepumpkin3

Becoming teenagers meant slowly relinquishing our
yearly pumpkin patch anticipation, subsequent budding
interest in jack-o-lantern growing slowly gave way to
preoccupations with sports, romance, cars, – disdain for
all else childlike or childish and definitely not cool
as mom slowly transformed our pumpkin patch into
feeble nasturtium arboretum, ringed with galling petunias
leaving us no room to protest as we had long since given
up any claim to the small plot of backyard fraternal field
of Halloween dreams leaving us with nothing but the
field stubble of memories, remnants of harvests past
long since completed, yet still vainly cultivated for
any rogue seedlings that may again someday sprout

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2015

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I am a poet, writer and teacher who moved from Minnesota to New Orleans in 2008 to help rebuild the worst public school system in America. It is a huge challenge to say the least. Now, after ten years, I have returned home to my native Midwest. Writing - in many different forms and ways - has saved me untold thousands in therapy bills throughout the years. Reading my writings may do either the same - or just the opposite - for you. Read at your own risk, as I do not offer writer malpractice insurance. ;-{) I hope you enjoy what you read here.