Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Tomatoes and Midday Cicadas
Where are the songs of Spring?
-Keats
The tomatoes are split and
discolored in the heat
Like bathing beauties who
have beached too long
And gathering up the past totter
home at dusk
Surprised to be all burnt and
wrinkled with age
The sun of April who was a lusty
lover
Caressing and warming their soft
young skin
Is now a middle-aged man
baring his chest
And seeking love in other
vegetable beds
The cicadas of noon mourn in
the withering heat
In remembrance of spring, youthful
and sweet
