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Apricots For Jam
High in the tree the best ones tease,
Just out of reach.
The tree’s too far from home
For me to lug a ladder.
I only want enough to make a pot of
jam - or two.
I love this fruit above all others.
The colour, smell, the taste,
The juice exploding in your face and
Dripping down your shirt.
Apricots – soft and mellow
Little globes of joy,
Made into jam to have on scones
- with cream.
I sigh – and fill my bag with pickings
- off the ground.
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