By June the plants crept across the ground with vines
Reaching past the beans to greet the cucumbers,
Going where no vine has gone before
To divide and conquer, leaving no dust untouched.

July buds form blossoms inviting bees deep
Into yellow-throated pollen pools
Thickening within days to elongating flesh:
Fecund eros in action before our eyes.

The finger-like projections at first harvested
Too small, but temptation overwhelms patience;
Sauted, grilled with garlic, superb in
Supreme simplicity.

But come back a day later: hose-like vines
Pumping into each squash, progressively inflated like
Balloon-man balloons to be twisted and transformed
But too plump, too distended, too insatiable.

It's a race to keep up with the pace of production
Eat some, give them away, leave on doorsteps like abandoned kittens,
In boxes in church lobbies, lunch rooms at work,
Food banks posting signs: "No more zucchini please!"

They march in formation in the garden path
As they are yanked swelling from their umbilical cords
And lined up,  stacked,  multiplying
Like the brooms of the "Sorcerer's Apprentice".

Then on to the compost pile, a fresh foundation,
In a scant few months of warm decomposition,
In dead of winter, with steam rising,
A seedling, innocent enough, pokes through exploding with potential:

Run for your lives~