sitting on the cutting board
half gone already
to Gary's salad
unaware
(both he and perhaps the tomato)
this was the last one
fresh from the garden
of good friends
shared with generosity
out of abundance, yes,
but frosty nights
loomed
And here we are
the last of a whole red basketful
bursting with flavor
sweet in a way
store-bought cannot comprehend
delighted in with
slow breaths
closed eyes
wide smile
ecstatic tastebuds
savoring summer
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