She’s perched a small pumpkin
on a candle stand atop the kitchen table--
an autumnal centerpiece.
Though it’s close to Halloween,
no jack-o-lantern face grins at you,
no flaming eyes flicker.
This little pumpkin does not move, of course;
there are no miniature horses to pull it
like a coach from the castle at midnight
and no fairy tale slipper has fallen from it.
This pumpkin is more a lesson,
a how-to on silent meditation,
a guide to learning to be what you are,
to live within your pumpkin-ness, as it were.