|by Margaret Bednar|
My red-tipped tongue swipes sour-sweetness
from upper lip, hand-held fan hiding half my face,
an attempt to hide transgressions ...
for I can't restist temptation.
June's soft breeze and rapidly moving paper fan
imprinted with the Savior's face,
challenges mid-afternoon's heatwave
surely reminiscent of Hell.
Yet the perfumed shade evokes images of Eden,
tree limbs laden with plump, ripe sourness
as thumb and fingers grasp hold, gently pull,
pop another red explosion into puckered mouth.
I stop fanning, ask forgivenss,
for Mother has cautioned a belly-ache
and Grandmother desires the bounty
for cherry pies, cobbler, and jams
for which we will gather around the table,
give thanks. And I promise (once again)
to fill the bucket, aware of the stickiness of the imperfect ones
upon the ground beside the fan.
Look into Jesus's gaze, hope He understands.
by Margaret Bednar, February 27, 2020.
This is linked with "Poets and Storytellers United - Weekly Scribblings #8 - Red Fruit Rendition". I've totally re-written this poem - I've struggled over the years to get it just right. I think I like this version the best. Let me know what you think . HERE is an older version if you are interested.
HERE are some amazing cherry recipies.