Carol Berg
On Receiving Burpee's Catalog In The Mail
This January Morning

Darkness itself wanted planets of pumpkin-colored
mornings.  Its sister, the creature called Dreariness
laughed into little hands.  "Pardon my saying," she

pointedly crumbled her tendrils of common pea-pods.  
"Pity the moment when day breaks on that dinner plate.
Pieces of seared seconds flying like fruit into your

mouth.  You would harvest the flush of dawn like flesh
off a peach. Puffy clouds, like ripe pears, would disappear
down your throat.  Rays of shy sunshine, jutting

with jubilance, jammed beneath your chomping
teeth.  Think of the squeak!  And the squeal as dawn
dies among sounds of loud slurps. Oh, by all means,"

Dreariness smirked, "pepper your dreams with hints of
cinnamon.  All those once exuberant colors reduced to
smears.  I'll be watching."  Darkness quietly shook

out seeds, sprinkling them softly in limitless space.