"Summer's Fruit"

Grown in many numbers, like herds of cattle
Oval lumps of green, thick flesh
All connected by a spindle of vine
Millions of them blanket fields

Children await their slice
A knife slices with a slash
Repeatedly hitting the cutting board with a muted thump
The children gasp and giggle, each taking their portion

Picky eaters toss seeds onto the earth
They bury themselves in the soil’s warm embrace
They prepare to sprout the next of their lineage
Like rabbits, they’ll multiply

Another plane of millions
All filled with crunchy, pink insides
A diamond in the rough
Summers’s fruit