Sweet and potato's vine

Sweet you are in glowing heat,
days or nights of summer,
bouncing aloft, clearly
winning any battle of
color codes meant for pots,
day lilies fight as perennials -
though never really touching your
Olympic standards.

You know too well of royalty
blaring your sign, wrecking
other communities set in May.
But for mediation there would
be fights aroused by jealousy,
as though you know nothing
of winning, deeply drinking in
statuesque manicures.

We'll design a summer for
you - and others who gloat
over leaving vegetables behind
for lower beings, those unearthed,
while beads of perspiration
from radishes staring -
watching as you fly from farmers
wanting nothing but honesty.

It's a trial to be king, to wear
the crown, to laugh in the
face of unbearable heat -
ovens glowing with embers
daring all to stare down in
pathetic pamphlets of powdered
pedantic potatoes.
Sweet you say.
We know you mock.

We know of better, more pure
days that many wish they were
you, clever, growing without
effort, without sun, moon, stars -
or water, you lap, you dare
to sparkle as you, to dream
of color for kings and queens.
Generous I know, but only
for this season,
as you laugh and grow.

© 2013 Larry Ingram