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Crab-Apple Jelly

March 19, 2015


Surprise April blossom, raspberry
ripple on grey – clouds of it –
promising summer.

Late July, she will gather
wasp-grazed fruit, unyielding
bullets, tart with potential.

A chipped enamel bowlful rains into
the sink, is swirled clean, slow-simmered.

Through the long-hot-sticky afternoon
panes drizzle expectation – jelly I could
already melt on my tongue, pink-slippery

and bouncing. Overnight, thin peach
seeps through muslin; every sleek drip,
bottle-caught. Her morning fingers drop

paper circles onto the shiny meniscus –
flimsy rafts capping summer. Sealing us.

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