Oh thou luscious green and pungent vine
Dotted with tiny yellow bloom,
Whispering succulent taste divine
As I thy health so carefully groom
And dream of scrumptious meals to come.
When first thy teeny olive orbs appear
Hidden midst thick, leaved stems
Tickling my senses, thou dost endear
Thyself to my heart—those little gems—
They fairly make my taste buds strum.
I can water and I can surely feed,
But that is not all that thou dost need,
I can carefully hoe and eliminate weed,
‘Tis then to God alone that I must cede
To supply remaining spectrum.
Oh, to behold thy freshly reddened cheeks
Greeting me from behind the leaves.
Anticipation whetted many weeks
Now with bursting joy and thanks receives
The goodness thy maturing gained.
Thy smooth roundness cradled in my hands
With absolute care conveyed
To where my familiar table stands.
Willingly thou givest thy goodness, splayed,
My salivating taste to satisfy.
Oh nectar divine, most exquisite bliss,
My taste buds tingle most wonderfully.
What pleasure and delightful ecstasy this
As I partake of thy goodness so thankfully
Thou succulent tomato, mine.