An Invitation to Pop Pods

a poem about daily tasks

I've pulled the sweet peas off the trellis.
They form a tan and green tumbleweed.
Their dry pods rattled in the yanking,
And their ripped tendrils remain on the wires.

I'll heap the still-green pods on the step
to crisp and dry in the hot July heat.
And maybe my small son will find them 
a temptation to pop and collect in a jar.

And I'll leave the red shears beside
The bird's nest of vines for my eldest
Who can't resist an open invitation 
To dice and chop to smithereens.

The dying creepers invited my work.
The aftermath compelled me to write.
And perhaps these words invite you 
To see and accept invitations laid out
By another like letters in your mailbox.

---