Picking Tomatoes
In the midst of my angst,
I stooped to see a woman
picking tomatoes;
Choosing with such deliberate surety,
the plump ripe one at the right moment.
Suddenly, sensing the world was upheld by her,
I felt safe, being near this earthly gardener.
Like Zen, in its old age,
She was an elegant, gray haired woman
named Eve, a biblical, ancient beauty
who left Adam to stay and care for the Garden,
a maiden of the woods,
married to the tree of knowledge.
And as I reached out to feel her essence,
she picked the one that I was on!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Her essence really comes across