Carol Berg On Receiving Burpee's Catalog In The Mail This January Morning Darkness itself wanted planets of pumpkin-colored mornings.  Its sister, the creature called Dreariness laughed into little hands.  "Pardon my saying," she pointedly crumbled her tendrils of common pea-pods.   "Pity the moment when day breaks on that dinner plate. Pieces of seared seconds flying like fruit into your mouth.  You would harvest the flush of dawn like flesh off a peach. Puffy clouds, like ripe pears, would disappear down your throat.  Rays of shy sunshine, jutting with jubilance, jammed beneath your chomping teeth.  Think of the squeak!  And the squeal as dawn dies among sounds of loud slurps. Oh, by all means," Dreariness smirked, "pepper your dreams with hints of cinnamon.  All those once exuberant colors reduced to smears.  I'll be watching."  Darkness quietly shook out seeds, sprinkling them softly in limitless space.

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