The Plum Tree
The mothers spread a plum stained blanket
under the tree,
and lay the babies down,
patting their backs.
They listen for the sch,
dedh, t-te sounds
of plums dropping through leaves
and hitting the ground around them.
Then they stand
and gather up the ones-
Soft, some slightly split, bursting-
The perfect ones and eat them,
plum juice staining their mouths
and fingers.
They laugh
and spit the pits away,
like the boys do.
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