when I was four or five
and my mom took me
to a home where rhubarb
was growing.
The old woman there
cut the thick red stalks,
peeled back the tough outer skin
and then sprinkled
the naked stem
with sugar. The crystals
stuck to the wetness.
Take a bite, she urged,
my first invitation
to learn how
it takes so little sweetness
sometimes to transform
a sourness into something
we might learn to love.
This, from Sarah Kay’s, Plan B: “But I want [my potentially future daughter] to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily, but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.” Not quite what you’re saying, which is closer to, “Just a bit of sugar turns your whiskey sour into lemonade,” but it does also deal with sweetness; and I like it muchly.