Valley Poetry: ‘Garden Tale’

Garden Tale
I had a Mom named Carrot
And an Aunt named Broccoli
My Uncle was called Eggplant
And my cousin, Celery.
We lived in a backyard garden,
The Yam folks lived nearby.
Our neighbors were the Onions.
(They often made me cry.)
One day the man who fed us,
Came with a wooden hoe.
He gently pulled us from the dirt,
Stepping down between each row.
Where were we going? we wondered,
As he put us in a bin.
Will we all be separated?
Not to see each other again?
He dropped us in the kitchen sink,
And washed our muddy skin.
Then he put us in a soup pot.
Good! We’re together once again!
— Patty Morelli, Scotts Valley
• Valley Poetry is a feature highlighting local poets that runs occasionally in the Press-Banner.