Planting Season

I taste of her,
salty, tart,
and warm.
Her fingers
curl around my stiff
ancestral root.
She knows my
smooth bulb
is ready for
planting.

I imagine generations of men
standing silently behind me.

Some were brave,

some fearful.

Some fought
wars for a day
like this.

Some were handsome.
Some, like me, were plain.
They knew the same
hunger we feel this morning.
They tilled the moist soil
and planted their plows
with visions of a harvest
in due season.