Persimmons cluster
On branches pronging
Hard-frost skies;
Season-end skin peels
From red-orange globes,
A soft shriveling
Under my fingers,
And cinnamon flesh,
Still fragrant,
Surrenders.
Poems, stories, and reflections
Poems, stories, and reflections
Persimmons cluster
On branches pronging
Hard-frost skies;
Season-end skin peels
From red-orange globes,
A soft shriveling
Under my fingers,
And cinnamon flesh,
Still fragrant,
Surrenders.
Nice. Did you ever decide whether or not to publish your poems?
I am working on a chapbook–thanks to your encouragement. Probably 40 garden-related poems. I hope to finish for a contest in January or February. Yay.
BTW I need to get back to you about the next guest post. My computer died, so retrieval of data has preoccupied. You are on the fall list!!
Love the picture and the poem!
How I miss wandering the woods and finding that those little tree pumpkins, persimmons were waiting to be noticed.
Your verse says it perfectly