Muddy Peas

The fields are thick 

mud tumbling over the tractor

ruts and your blue boots

suction cupping along the way. 

You’ve made it to the garden

the peas are out

that’s why you’re here. 

 

Peal back the thick green

shell protecting each 

soft, silk pea – careful

not to squeeze it in your fingers

dirty from puddles a few feet back.

 

Each pea slides down your throat

slowly – reminds you of him.

The shell is crunchy and thick

juice refreshing like sunrays

reflecting off heavy eyelashes. 

 

The pea, a memory of him

the only one

but can’t remember who he is

where he’s from 

but feel he cared once 

enough to show you the garden of peas.

© Lindsay Foran