Huge old tree

                                        Neglected, unpruned,

                                         Branches bent low

                                         With prodigal fruit.
 
 

                                         Small purple plums

                                           Tart to taste

                                          Brilliant for Jam

                                       And country preserves
 
 

                                         Ripened, they fall

                                      Some squashed underfoot.

                                      Most gathered in buckets

                                        To the kitchen bound.
 
 

                                       There, sorted and stoned

                                         Sliced and stewed,

                                        With sugar and spice

                                          Water and wine.
 
 

                                           The end result

                                          Is bottles of jam

                                        And winter preserves.

                                         A hard days work.
 
 

                                        The reward, though,

                                          Is beautiful jam

                                        With hot crusty bread

                                       And fresh country butter
 
 

                                        This life, with it’s woe

                                         Has nothing better

                                       Than the simplest things

                                        Like a few little plums.
 

Dawn McDonald
© March 2005

Midi: "Blueberry Hill"
Fats Domino

Art: "Plums in a basket"
Artist: Alexis Kreyder