Tomato Love

my father called them “love apples” and wondered

aloud who could take that first bite

who was so brave as to reach for the redness and bite into

what looked like poison to him

he was grateful for that first bite, the reach of that pioneer

the steady hearts of those before him

his questions wove into my soul a conscious questing

a willingness to leap in faith and appreciation,

compassion for the question

courage for the answer

 

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