Little Maxwellan lived on a farm
Smack in the middle of nowhere.
The pasturage was small, not great for cattle,
But boy, the veg could grow there.
To keep the young lad out of their hair,
And to keep him out of trouble,
Pa had decided ‘’this boy needs a job’’
And had handed Maxwellan a shovel.
‘’You see that small melon patch there,
Next to the cabbage and winged bean?
I want you to tend to those plants,
And grow me a gourd like I’ve never seen.
If you’re patient till harvest’s end,
And produce a proud looking fruit,
We’ll enter it in the county fair.
Win, and you can keep the loot.’’
Well, little Maxwellan, inspired by fame and riches,
Set out to inspect his melon patch.
It was the Chinese kind, with waxy, oval crop.
Ma would sometimes cook up a batch.
You’d put them in soups or stews,
For their mild sweet flavour.
Add ginger, add garlic,
And, oh! That dish, you’d savour.
‘’First we must build a stronger structure
From which to suspend the vine.
A new lattice wouldn’t hurt,’’ said Pa.
Together, we’ll do it right this time.’’
So Maxwellan got to work;
Helped his father as best he could.
They built the structure and the lattice,
And all of it looked good.
‘’The rest is up to you now, son.
I trust you’ll do just fine,
Put all your heart into your work,
And whatever you do will shine.’’
Well, for the next hundred days or so,
Maxwellan did just that.
He weeded and watered religiously,
Watching his precious pepos grow fat.
Of all the plants hung from the lattice,
One prospered especially well.
Hanging like a big, plump balloon,
A prize specimen, all could tell.
‘’I know which one will enter the contest!
Look at its thick wax coating!
It’s the biggest one you’ve ever seen, Pa!
I might as well be gloating!’’
When the time came, at the end of harvest,
The gourd was almost as tall as Maxwellan,
‘’Here,’’ said Pa. ‘’Help me lift it into the cart.
Now there’s a fine wax melon!‘’
When they arrived, it was not yet noon,
Though the fairground was already abuzz.
There was giant produce everywhere!
A strange spectacle it was!
To tent number seven, they carted the big thing,
Where it was weighed, measured and inspected.
Maxwellan could only hold his breath,
And pray that his gourd was selected.
In the back of the room, he spotted Ashley Ford
In a pretty, flower-pattern dress.
So he walked on over, caught her eye,
And tried his best to impress.
‘’Hi Ashley! You look very pretty.
Did you come to see the contest?
I brought a giant wax melon that I grew by myself.
It will surely be the best!’’
Ashley Ford thanked Maxwellan
And wished him best of luck.
Then, she reached up, kissed his cheek,
And left the boy dumbstruck.
Soon after, the chief judge rose,
And called for the attention of the crowd.
Round as a southern screamer, the man,
Also, just as loud...
‘’Ladies, Gentlemen! Ahem! Please!
The jury has come to a conclusion!
This was no easy task, I must confess,
As we have seen quality in profusion.
Maxwellan’s enormous wax melon
Has impressed us all to a great degree,
But bigger still, was Miss Ford’s magnificent ash gourd
And, for this, the first prize is awarded to she.’’
Delighted cheers from the audience,
Little Ashley’s face all aglow.
Maxwellan can’t believe what’s happened.
The tears, they start to flow.
When he’s finished crying and wiped his tears,
He goes to congratulate his friend.
Though he tries to be polite, he can’t help but ask
How she did beat him, in the end.
‘’I read poetry to my plant every day.
It must have liked hearing my voice.
Its favourite poet, I found to be
None other than Dr. Seuss.’’
I dedicate this one to Ash and Max. Their love for each other, well-nurtured, continues to grow every day.
