Glittering seeds that sparkle in winter
Much like a geode cracked open

Textured spheres like palm-sized suns
Perfume the grove with citrus tang

Oblong bunches entice with 
promises of creamy, tropical sweetness 

Tart, crisp heralds of autumn 
Ready to move from bushel to Thanksgiving pie

Baskets of chewable night-sky pearls 
Fresh from bush to muffin tin

Plump globes hang heavy on the vine in the tea-colored afternoon sun
Destined for bottle, jar, or a snack popped between a lover’s lips

-gws