Standing beneath the plum tree
picking ripe plums with my friend
and my daughter, the air thick
with the guarantee of rain,
I am certain of the goodness of life.
Pulling the fruits to my lips,
sticky juice spills down my chin,
and the golden flesh turns to sweet hum
in my mouth. There are times I forget.
Times when betrayal, loss and fear
flood through me thick and indifferent
as the mudslide that slurred
through the yard later tonight
leaving piles of rubble and sludge.
This is why, today while picking plums,
when they rain down on us like
tiny purple proofs of glorious abundance,
I dog ear the moment, try to cache
just how it feels to be so convinced
of life’s benevolence, of grace.
*
By the way, friends, we’re fine. The house is fine. But man, what a giant mess! The yard is a disaster, in some places feet of mud, branches, root balls, rocks. My husband luckily has a tractor and he plowed out our drive–wholly moly, but it will be a long time before the massive clean up is done.
I have been savoring summer plums as well, and love the phrase “dog ear the moment.” Sorry to hear about all that mud – hope the landscape is now stable, and the cleanup can begin – there are bound to be poems buried in that muck, waiting for you to find them!
LOTS of clean up today–lucky my husband is great on a tractor! And I was on shovel duty where it’s not so thick. It will be a long time!
Glad you’re okay. Appreciate that, even after a mudslide, you’re able to write about the plum tree’s abundance the the fruit’s glory — reminding us to savor rather than save for some later breakfast.
thanks, Laura! It was quite the juxtaposition! what a whirled … all at once. Love to you