"Up" Syndrome

PUMPKIN
GOLD

On the edge of late September,
On the brink – October morn.
A yellow flower blossomed,
A tiny pumpkin born.

Upon her family vine,
Umbilicaled at her birth,
Surrounded by soft sibling leaves
Glee-green with merry mirth.

And up above the father sun,
Who loves his wife, the earth,
Assures his warmth when dark clouds come -
Rain grace round pumpkin, a firth.

And sibling leaves will vine this firth,
Graced-drafts they’ll drink and behold,
God’s greatest gifts, the patient ones,
Father sun, mother earth, pumpkin-GOLD!!