Do you remember the day
we visited the pumpkin patch?
It must have been a day or two
before Halloween:
you were wearing your cozy gray
kitty-cat costume,
with its tail and paws
and pointy little ears.
As soon as we parked,
you went right to work:
you picked out your own
big red wagon,
and tugged it and pulled it
in the hay-strewn lot
from one scattered pumpkin pile
to the next,
oblivious of shouted suggestions
from Enzo
or Nonni
or the boy in charge.
You carefully selected
each one of your pumpkins,
a mix of shapes and sizes,
piling each rough orange ball
in the bed of your wagon,
never asking for help
as the load grew higher
and higher
and heavier
and heavier.
When it was time to pay for our pumpkins,
we kept your whole wagon-load,
each pumpkin perfect
for your own third Halloween.
Now, half a year later,
we pile a load of bright balls
all sizes and colors
into your new birthday wagon
and sing:
Happy Birthday, dear Jakey,
Happy Birthday, dearest Jakey,
You’re three years old today!
With love and hugs and kisses,
Nonni