The pumpkin that was almost never picked

Winning story of the Student Association pumpkin story writing competition.
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The pumpkin that was almost never picked

I passed a pumpkin patch one peaceful afternoon
As a pleasant wind played at the prickly pumpkin vines 
And birds pipped away their placid tunes.
The pumpkin smell was poignant, the prime season past
Now old, pale pumpkins were perishing in the patch 
And the perfect pumpkins picked were already put in pumpkin pies
All except one, a pitifully pretty, pure orange pumpkin
A procrastinating bloomer, a slow progress producer
Ripened post the pumpkin picking date.
I peered at this peculiar specimen, this gourd in its prime
For it was the most perfect pumpkin I had passed to this time
A pity it was left, perfectly alone,
Possibly passed by some picker, some un-patient person
Predestined never to be a pie or pretty decoration 
So I, in my propitious way, proceeded to pick this pumpkin 
And take it past this punishing place,
And from the persistent passing time
And make this pumpkin into a pie, to let it persist in the memory
Of the people who would partake in this pumpkin’s serendipity 
So in this season of prayer and persistent thanks 
Be the person who is not too painfully preoccupied 
To perceive and to patiently be prepared to provide
To help make this planet a more positive place without pride
Now take this pumpkin’s parable 
And remember that no matter how postponed 
Everyone can have a positive part to play that no one can predict 
Even a passed by pumpkin that was almost never picked. 

By Ashley Herber
 

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