The tomatoes on the windowsill
are just beginning to turn red.
A neighbor picked them–
–plump and green–
and instructed me to wait until they were ripe.
Why they weren’t left on the vine
until their skin thinned into a ruby red hue
I don’t know.
I think my neighbor simply
likes reminiscing about her
friend who planted the vine
but did not live to see the harvest.