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Fresh Produce For Sale

How many times have you stopped by a roadside stand to admire their offerings? This poem hails back to childhood road trips and roadside stands.

One of many road trips

We again find ourselves here.

In one place or another

They all feel like home.

Freedom from back seat imprisonment

We jump at the opportunity.

Anxiously waiting for the car to stop,

We throw open the door.

Roadside stand, handwritten sign

Fresh Produce For Sale

Multi-colored nutrition of all shapes and sizes

On one rickety table

Deliverance in the form of a shade tree

Always close by

Rusted truck bed loaded with watermelons,

Not too far from a vat of boiling peanuts.

Mason jars aligned and stacked,

Those windows to prisms of sugared glory,

Competing with bottles of cane syrup

Standing tall, ready for duty.

Sacks of grits lean askew

Assured of their staple status,

They need not be called to order.

But the sweets,

Oh the sweets!

Call us to heaven now.

Rock candy and peanut brittle battle

In a candy land delight

Saltwater taffy pulls our soul

Do we have to pick only one?

Stickied fingers and colored tongues,

We reluctantly submit to our demise,

Several more hours car-ride.

Until we meet again

Roadside stand

Fresh Produce For Sale

And freedom,

If only for a while.

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