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Plum Picking

Published by broussardlana on December 26, 2016

Deep within a coven of trees
you can find purple passion inside
those wild plums
the sweet meats of isolation and chaos
Far away from busy town streets
screeching with cars
bustling with hustle
and the clanking of day noise
You celebrate a commune with nature
braving brambles
clawing at legs and hands
purple sweetness beams
like the forbidden fruit it is
mockingbirds skitter
into a crown of tall ash trees
A nest of squirrels
chatter from lofty branches
at a distance
a crafty coyote
interested in the mad race of rabbits
and not so much
in the harvesting of fruit
Your quest for that sugared sweetness
a touch of tartness
the sticky feel of fingers
to satiate cravings
but then…
just beyond the plum patch
a deserted cemetery
looms upon the horizon
the nearness of graves
the distance to grace
 

Published inpoetryPoetrySpiritual

21 Comments

  2. Phil Ryan Phil Ryan

    What a beautiful poem for Boxing Day. Professor Plum, in the garden with fruit picking parafernalia.
    Having only just been introduced to Robert Frost (what have I been doing all my life) I’m sure he’d appreciate the message of enjoying nature before it’s too late. The squirrels get it, from their lofty vantage point. Lovely piece LT, thanks.

    # December 26, 2016
    • L. T. Garvin, Author L. T. Garvin, Author

      Thank you, Phil. Boxing Day, outstanding 🙂 I love Robert Frost, he is one of the American poets I most admire, although I must admit, it would be the English/UK poets that I could read forever. It’s impossible to pick a favorite, but Yeats would be close.

      # December 26, 2016
      • Phil Ryan Phil Ryan

        I stumbled across Christy’s blog and a piece she’d written about Frost. She’d also done a piece on ‘Out out’ which I interpreted as a metaphor for the Great War which took me, via Chisty’s recommendation, to The Road Not Taken and then to… Your friend Yeats. Like Frost a stranger to me before this week but a beauty (not terrible) has been born. 🙂

        # December 26, 2016
  7. Just Joan Just Joan

    Love it, made me think of my grandma’s plum tree, on her property out in the country. We ate them by the dozen while we were supposed to be picking… forgive us, they were delicious, so sweet and so warm. 🙂

    # December 28, 2016
    • L. T. Garvin, Author L. T. Garvin, Author

      I will forgive you, ha ha. I always liked them chilled in the frig. My grandmother didn’t have a tree, but she would go and pick wild plums. I did not inherit her love of baking and all that jam and jelly stuff.

      # December 28, 2016

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