Sweet corns shucks lay piled in a heap

Just beneath the wilted greens –
Chard, sorrel, kale, lettuce.
Watermelon rind, shrinking,
Lies among the decaying leaves and stems,
Embattled, sunken hulls.
Beet tops bleed out the bottom
Onto pungent coffee grounds
A long way from their Hawaiin home.
Egg shells peek through,
Birthing nothing but
Forgotten whites, gnats and flies.
Snapped off ends of green beans
Lay scattered like confetti –
The party’s over.
The heat rises from within,
Through Autumn’s fallen leaves,
Spring’s discarded dandelions,
Summer’s grass clippings
And sugar snap pea plants,
Already pulled.
A pile of refuse . . .
Next year’s garden
In waiting.

This is my “Tablespoon of Summer,” written in response to the Random Act of Poetry prompt over on High Calling Blogs. The challenge? This week, find a tablespoon of summer. Nothing big. A sound, a sight, something unimpressive. Give it to a poem, and let the poem give it life. Nothing more unimpressive than my rotting compost pile in the back yard.