Now comes that dreaded time of year:
Sadistic neighbors reappear
With squashes laden; how they flaunt them.
I protest loudly, do not want them!
They fathom not. (How can this meanie
Fail to savor our zucchini?
What motivates this ingrate neighbor
To spurn the products of our labor?)
Squash aren't eaten, sad to say;
They're only grown to give away.
Bob Wombacher, Jr.