Walking the dog on a very cold night -
Because
the park is just too muddy, too slushy,
Slippery
- because the rain is turning into black ice,
And
the frozen snow gets under her pads and hurts her paws,
And
because she kicks off her bright red booties,
I
walked her uptown on Central Park West.
Stuck
in the frozen snow ,
On
the edge of the sidewalk
Was
a squash - an acorn squash.
It
must have fallen out of someone’s grocery bag
As
she – or he - shlepped the shopping cart home
Over
the spikes and rivulets of slush and ice,
Or
rolled out of it when they unloaded the car
Which
may have been the one parked on the other side
Of
the frozen mound, mostly black from the soot, by now.
Although
I could see that beneath the ashy surface ,
It
was still white.
At
any rate, the squash was mostly round, and grooved,
And
definitely orange,
An
anomaly in that spot on the sidewalk.
Against
the sooty ice.
I
should have just taken a picture of it,
But,
I picked it up, tucked it under my arm
As
the dog pulled me toward home, the leash in one hand
And
I spoke on the phone to my daughter with the other.
Oh,
about my grandson’s getting over the flu
and
my grand-daughter’s so individual- take on life
Then
-
“YOU
did WHAT?” my daughter screeched ,
As
I told her about the squash
“Mom
- It’s dirty. Throw it out!”
“Well,
I WILL wash it….”
“No! You picked up a squash that dogs
probably peed on “–
It
had never occurred to me-
To
me it was simply a veggie,
Sitting in the snow, having lost its purpose,
And
should be cooked.
All
I saw was a lost squash obviously thinking,
“I
don’t belong here. In the cold."
“You
know I hate waste, Beth “ I said.
“What’s
more important? Waste or being poisoned?
It’s
not going to poison anyone – it’s just a squash. I'll peel it!"
“Mom,
you know how anxiety can shorten your life?”
I
had heard of that.
“I
think you just took ten minutes from me.“
Oh,
dear.
Maybe
I should just take the squash back to where I found it
Take
the picture of an orange squash
Lost
in the grayish city- snow by the side of the curb
And
leave it there.
Maybe
someone else will pick it up –
Someone
who really needs a squash.
Oh,
God, now I \wonder if a rat had gnawed at it -
Small
sections of the skin was scraped-
And
I will come down with bubonic plague.
No,
the skin was probably just sideswiped,
Grazed
by the ice when it fell.
A
rat would have eaten the whole thing -
Invited his ratty friends to partake.
Pigeons
would have been pecking.
A raccoon
might have wandered over.
Certainly
a squirrel or two.
There
wouldn’t have been anything left of
An
acorn squash sitting in the snow.
For
me to tuck under my arm and take home.
