Surplus

September
—————-

Autumn arrives again
Bringing with it relief
To attic dwellers
Of cooler months to come,

Of blinds left open,
And house plants watered
Only once
Or twice a day.

But it also brings the harvest
Of those belligerent plants
Which refused to die,
Which failed to wither;

Plums, and plum tomatoes,
And round tomatoes, and
A handful of squash.
And apples and more apples and more bloody apples,

And really?
Did she buy another five apple trees
After she was dead?
She did.

Other plums come earlier
And deliver sweet rewards,
For the gardener,
As he goes about his business

But this one, Haganta,
A German hybrid,
Demands watering,
And delivers a phenomenal crop

And pears and quinces can be forgiven, as
They’ll cellar store
And present no urgent problem,
Not for September

But what hath the attic dweller
To do with all this fruit?
How many tomatoes do I need?
And with whom shall I share?

There is no want of it
In me, or in any that I know.
It is at once my reason – for being
And yet no reason at all.