POEM: My Garden Is an Expectant Mother

My garden is this expectant mother
Belly full and round,
Sagging with all this life it holds.
Tomatoes on the verge of red
They pull everything down.

The engorged cucumbers try to hide,
While knuckled string beans
Dangle like earrings,
Filled with harvest pride.

My garden is this expectant mother
Belly, full and round,
Waiting to deliver
All the goodness of the ground.