John Long Poet Free verse

Persimmon

                                                                       PERSIMMON          



                                        The Persimmon Tree stood right outside the window
                                       Its fruit mostly round as it hung precariously on branches 
                                      Way above the Fall cooled ground going unnoticed by many
                                      Even in the chilly wind waiting to be picked and quickly used

                                         Walking through the zig sagging house to the end wondering 
                                        What there was to find I opened a door on the right then stepped 
                                        In to a room which was empty except for chairs I sat down then
                                        Looked around and saw the tree along with the dark orange fruit

                                        Thinking about all the cookies and pies that could be made
                                        I got out of the chair then went outside to the tree with some bags
                                       In my pocket and picked all the Persimmon that I could hoping 
                                       To carry it all home before any bags could break

                                         With the fruit peeled and the pulp mashed like very hot potatoes
                                          It was time to heat the oven and get started making some                      
                                          goodies to kindly share

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