In celebration of the end of summer, I present…….
The Autumn Wedding of Pumpkin and Squash
Oh autumn, when the geese head south
when sea lions play amid the kelp
and sunsets paint their grey-red feast
against the ocean's deepening.
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness
when drippy drown down leaves fall lazily to earth
finding their rest in soil that's long been home
since earth was love, and love was loam.
Long twenty thousand years ago
this land was ice-scraped bare,
stripped to the rock, snow buried,
covered deep with silence.
Then oceans warmed, and from afar
came tiny seeds from distant plants,
blown in by wind or dropped by dung,
minuscule prophets of a land that soon would
burst into a glorious world of colour,
fragrance exploding into flower,
filling the earth with cedars, oaks,
and forests wrapped in mist-rich cloaks
where bears and eagles gorge down deep
on the flesh of salmon, winter’s meat,
and in the spring fawn lilies sing
of the beauty of the land.
Such food, that native tribes
should feast so well, and sleep so fine.
Herring, halibut, blueberries, clams,
salmon, cranberries, oolichan.
Such grace, that land so fertile from the leaves
and drowsy slumbers of ten thousand rotting summers
should recompose itself into a world so gay
that pumpkin and squash might hold their wedding day
down aisles packed tight with beets and carrots
fresh greens throwing kisses at their feet
while broccoli sounds the organ's praise
and leeks sing forth their chorus.
"All hail to this union!" the onions cry
while mange-tout brides-peas giggle delight.
" All hail to this union, in Gaia's church.
Who answers for this pair?"
"We do!" a human couple calls,
young urban farmers from the city's core,
where wastelands that once grew shattered glass
now bloom with beets and parsnips.
"We do!" they cry, as with delight
five thousand sweetcorns dance into sight
with ten thousand lettuces on their arms,
swaying their seductive leaves and charms.
"We do!" the great assembly calls
as the worms come twirling roundabout.
" We announce thee wed!" the onions shout,
and squash to pumpkin’s arms, she falls.
That night the heavens did open wide
as fruits and vegetables everywhere
with human farmers.
Many the kisses and deep laid thrills
as tendrils wrapped and wombs were filled.
Many the eyes that gazed and loved,
As Nature found her fortune.
Meanwhile, on lonely supermarket shelves,
dejected and sad under neon light,
the slave-caught fruits and veggies lie,
listening to the party.
Never for them the joy of marriage,
or life on an organic farm.
Sprayed against parasites, bugs and decay,
they've been snatched before ripe from the fields of their play.
Cram packed fast tight into pitch black holds
Then trucked vast distances 'cross the world
they meet the market's constant need
for colour, variety, taste, and greed.
Thus did the slavers find their buyers,
gentry of fashion, the latest in style,
meeting the ships from Africa
or poisoned, from fields in Mexico.
Back in the soil, Gaia feels their hurt
and grieves for lives so torn apart.
When local children feel such hunger
why can't the earth be theirs to wander?
Soon chemical fields will lose their soil
as scientists struggle to make them vile
with bio-injections and seedless genes
- no more seed ancestors, just bring in the clones.
This is the bondage that hates the earth
that needs your voice to set it free.
What starts as a leaf, then falls to the ground
can nurture the seed that becomes a tree.
So grow, and dance, and take delight
on pumpkin and squash’s wedding night.
The world is awaiting for your love
To rediscover Nature.