Once, only in summer:
they came, brown-bagged
from the A&P, opened
to reveal spheres
of black-red purple ripeness,
placed in a glass bowl
on the kitchen counter,
counterparts to spheres
of reddish-peach ripeness,
in unison, issuing the sirens’
call to the boy,
grabbing black-red purple
in one hand
and reddish-peach
in the other
and stealing to the backyard
to savor double sweetness.
This poem is a response to the “purple poetry” prompt issued by Seth Haines at Tweetspeak Poetry.
It’s also submitted to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. The links will be live at 2 p.m. Central time today.
Photograph by Brunhilde Reinig via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
8 comments:
How the simplest treats could give us so much happiness when we were children! Wonderful poem, Glynn!
I love wild plums right off the tree. . .
Your words are wonderful! You bring us so much more than the color..it's taste, texture, season, sunshine...all wrapped up into this gorgeous little weave. Fantastic!
mmm i want a plum now...they were a treat growing up...not our usual apple or pear....
What a treat. A tasty poem.
That it only came but once a year made it all the sweeter. What a joy memory.
nice. I love plums. You're right, there was a time you could only get plums, and cherries too for that matter, in the summer. Now, in the winter as well. That is definitely progress:) excellent write Glynn. Thanks
Not forbidden, but just as tempting...
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