Uncle Joe’s backyard –
a Mediterranean oasis surrounded
by side streets of a busy, little city.
of fat grapes growing angry
waiting for their harvest
to be smashed and pulverized
into an old world nectar
from a new world basement.
Two young girls hijack John Deere
for a joyride around rows of corn,
potatoes, peppers and lettuce-
careful not to crash into tonight’s salad
or the neighbor’s cat.
Aunt Christie calls us in out of the sun,
we sit on green and red crocheted cushions,
sipping frosty glasses of iced ginger ale on crocheted coasters
at a small table on a crocheted rug,
surrounded by earthy scents and
overflowing baskets of my uncle’s harvested jewels.