An ode to the winter squash.

Stripes and knots abound on your skin,

Inside golden flesh waits for my teeth,

Piercing the surface, I seek what’s beneath.

Oh wonderous vegetable, where do I begin?

Spaghetti has nothing on your lucious taste,

To ignore your siren call would be such a waste.

Butternut, I call you. Endearing, your stare.

Pop into the oven, if only I dare.

Carnival an apt title for your windy shape,

I wonder if I could put you in a crepe?

And I must’nt ignore the effervescent pumpkin,

Omitting your presence would just make me a bumpkin.

Its no exaggeration to claim you have me addicted,

You’re the star of my kitchen adventures,

You’re a blank canvas, ready for indentures.

How much I enjoy you I would never have predicted.

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