I eat a cherry in one bite,
dismiss the stem, the pit,
and do not think about
the tree that grew to fruitfulness,
about the seasons and the handicaps-
the rain, too much, too little,
The farmer with a cautious eye,
the orchard with competing claims
for sun and shade in just the right amount,
for time to pass, for strength to overcome
the drought, the worm, the bird-
the price, the market, or the man who picks.
I think, instead, about the deep red hue,
the pleasing shape, the sweet, fresh taste, the firm
yet giving texture, how much I want
one more -
not finally the soil, the earth that gave it birth,
nor even God's creation.
(August 2003)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is wonderful, Barbara. You have a gentle way of writing, always with beautiful imagery. Warmest regards, CJ