There are some days this time of year

When I smell the earth in all her glory,

And I think of peanuts dug after the first frost.

Yesterday, they were green.

One day of white, one brown day,

And now the machines are going over them 

Like a fine tooth comb.

The plants lie there like cadavers

Stripped down to their very private parts,

Naked peanuts scooped up and into the combine.

Mother nature has a way of combining us,

And re-combining our DNA.

We bare what fruit we can in this life,

And mother does the best she can with us,

For some of us don't seem to bare any fruit but only our nuts.

It's only natural, I surmise.

Peanuts do it, just not all the time.

But, I don't seem to want the machines to come

And run over me.

I don't want the frost to come.

I don't want a day of white, a day of brown,

But I smell the earth and know,

It's only crazy for us not to go on living,

Or to worry how our lives will have looked

To others, after we're gone.

So I'm showing the world my nuts now, today,

While I've got the chance to pose them properly,

I'm currently residing squarely in my autobiography,

And if no one likes the way it looks,

They can read some other book 

That someone else may write,

Some other time than now.

-jenn