In the few spare minutes
between kids’ basketball games
I find myself
in the produce aisle
floating on a rainbow
of yellow, red, orange, green.
Vibrant and bursting
with perfection, promising
the flavors of earth and sky
and stream.
I pause—
unexpectedly
overwhelmed,
grateful to live in a time
where fifteen stolen minutes
allows me to gather apples and grapes,
squash, broccolini, avocado and rhubarb.
Grown by strangers, harvested
by other hands—a bounty
for my family to share.
Ryan Stone
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