Persimmons

Does sucking lemon leave you licking your lips. Does a lime leave you light and fresh. When I even think of touching the tongue, to either of those it turns my mouth inside out. But not as bitter and bad as the not ripe persimmon. When persimmons have peaked before picking, which is usually after the first hard frost. No more delightful delicacy dares to compete. It is absolutely aromatic and awes with sweetness. But tasted before that time takes courage the second time it is tasted. For it puckers the palate galls up the gullet tortures the tongue and makes your mouth mindful of a rough coating everywhere. Luscious love is a little like that. Building from lust, bursting forth in bloom, bringing deep biological urges blossoming forth after mutual respect begins to bear witness to bonafide adoration. Let it linger and languish low profile letting nature nourish each nuance until the frost of fastidiousness finds love complete. Resplendently ripened and reveling in readiness it awaits only the arrival of articulated amours to be plucked as is the ripened persimmon. © Aug 28 2010 Charles Henderson