Sculpted Personalities

Driving by the farmer’s stand, they pose
Trying to look their Sunday best.
Families, couples, kids all in search,
Seeing which one passes their difficult test.

They’ve grown all year for this one month.
Some go sooner, others go later.
Big ones, warped ones, small ones, perfect ones,
Either way, they all know their fate.

Getting picked is only half their job,
Their sculpted personalities are yet to be.
Opening them up, we gather their guts,
Knowing that giving them life is no cup of tea.

From devilish grins to astonishing eyes,
And faces that are not meant to scare.
They are doctored to fit imaginations,
And always welcome a passing by stare.

Days pass as features rot into one.
November is now their biggest fear.
Knowing that their holiday has come and gone,
Leaves farmers longing for next year.

RMK