"Green Tomato" a poem by Louis Jenkins

This morning
after the first frost,
there is a green tomato
among the kleenex,
combs and loose change,
the more usual clutter
on the dresser.
That's the way it is
around here--
things picked up,
put down, lost
or forgotten.
Here is the possibility
of next year's crop,
even more,
in one green tomato.
It makes me smile
to see it there,
newly discovered,
confident and
mysterious as the face
of my young son
who comes to the bedroom
early, ready to play.
There is no point in
my telling you too much
of what makes me
happy or sad.
I did not wake to find,
at this moment,
in this unlikely place,
only my own life.