Sitting up
On the shelf
Between the cucumbers and zucchini
Delicate vegetables in hues of yellow
Longing to be returned to the garden.

Gazing down
At me,
Little squash
Freshly taken from a crate
In the back of the refrigerated truck
On a long journey from what was familiar.
Far traveled, the linoleum strikingly different
From the warm soil baked by the sun,
Your kin next to you, safe and sprinkled
With the earth.
Plucked from the branch,
Swept away from the flowery buds
Unassumingly awaiting your same fate.
Dragged through the air,
Your once carefully placed existence,
Groomed to perfection,
Basking in the life of the warm garden,
No longer holds you to it.

In the market,
The mist sweeps down,
Reminding you of home.
Reminiscent,
You long of the same thunderstorms that captivate me,
Feeling the earth and her tears from heaven on my skin.
Absorbing,
As if you were
A sponge
Taking in your surroundings,
Holding them dear and flourishing
In your environment,
Only to be rung out,
Waiting to take in more,
Never of the same matter.