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Posts Tagged ‘plum’

Burst

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on August 3, 2021| 4 Comments »




So full of sugar,
the ripe plums
on the counter
begin to split
their skin—a sign
they’re beginning
the journey
to wine.

Sometimes,
like today,
hiking through
spruce forests and
wildflower meadows,
past beaver ponds
and through
clearings of chanterelles,
I, too, feel as if
I could split—
so filled with
the sweetness
of life I almost
explode,
tipsier by the moment
broken open
by joy.

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Beneath the Plum Tree

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on July 29, 2021| 4 Comments »




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. 

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Bouquet of Six Camping Poems

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on July 28, 2018| Leave a Comment »

 

 

 

eating wild plums—

the back of the mouth rucks

the lips quiver for more

 

*

 

in the hot springs—

letting myself soak until all I am

is a woman in the hot springs

 

*

raindrops on the tent—

I practice how to whisper love

in rain language

 

*

 

earwigs in the sleeping bags—

there is nothing nothing

good about this

 

*

 

bribing my daughter

with ice cream to hike—

each step a victory

 

*

 

apricots so perfectly

apricot, I clap as I taste them—

longing to be that true

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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In Susan’s Backyard

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on September 20, 2013| 1 Comment »

Spryly
highly
yesly
mumly
Aiden
climbs the
laden
plum tree
smiley
wily
sparkling
eye-ly
Aiden
tosses
ripe plums
highly
through
the air
my hands
are there
sweet boy
who lives
so me
oh my-ly.

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