Watermelon Red—Benjamin Moore—2087–20

She is sitting outside
in the watermelon field
surrounded by scrambler
and trailer vines.
Her legs
"Criss cross
apple sauce"
like vines tangled
and twisted
holding
the sweet treat
of the summer fruit
the crunchy
thirst—quenching
watermelon.

She looks
beyond
the summer air
that has
made small drops
of sweat
on her forehead
she slides
her hands
against
the hard
bitter
rind.
The pattern and color
fascinate her.

She sees one
that is fully grown
ready
for harvest.
They grow
so well
that its hard to take one home.
She tastes it
wanting to never
forget its
succulent flavor.
The small black seeds
inside
like soldiers
in a line,
perfectly positioned.

She sits on the watermelon field
thinking—

She is one of them
not ready yet
to be sweet
to be colorful
to be
unique.

She is still
growing she is a seed
that has been cultivated.

She knows
she will someday
be ready
to be harvested
and be
watermelon
red.