Plums turn from red to purple,
the tree behind a fence. On the earth,
fruit rots. The leaves are dark
and when I stand beneath, I cannot see
the sky. Jam is made for the winter,
stored in glass jars.
Some plums are bitter, the skin tough,
like the bars of the fence;
others are soft, melt on the tongue.
A ladder leans against the tree;
a father passes the fruit down
to his daughter. She puts it into a bucket.
You are sitting on the couch,
drinking an English Breakfast tea.
A shepherd brings his cows to grass;
bells clink around their necks,
abrupt, like the end of August,
the cool nights, the swallows last shrill
before they leave their nests.
Ion Corcos was born in Sydney, Australia in 1969. He has been published in Cordite, Meanjin, Wild Court, The Sunlight Press, and other journals. Ion is a nature lover and a supporter of animal rights. He is the author of A Spoon of Honey (Flutter Press, 2018).
Latest posts by Ion Corcos (see all)
- Plum Jam - 21st August 2022
- Bakery - 11th March 2022
- Walnut Muffins - 19th November 2021