Not Plum Crazy  
with a nod to

William Carlos Williams
I saw the cold plums in the icebox today.
I spied them right next to the chocolate topped torte
I know you were saving for Sunday dessert.
Forgive me, my gluttony led me astray.  
Its devilish lure was so dark, rich and lush.
‘Twas swathed in a glorious swirl of ganache 
And splashed with a dash of ambrosial panache –
A silken sweet melt with a cocoa-kissed rush. 
Oh so much depends on the succor of snacks
On rainwater-glazing-red-wheelbarrow days
Beside the white chickens all dazed by my blaze  
Of hunger as sharp as a fowl-slaying axe…
I’m high on the hit of those last yummy crumbs.
Please do help yourself to a couple of plums.  

Susan J. Bryant

If you have any thoughts on this poem, Susan J. Bryant would be pleased to hear them.