Wild Persimmon Preserves
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Out hunting in the woods, late in the fall
I came upon a wild persimmon tree
Strewn all around were reddish-yellow balls
A treasure it had dropped, now mine for free
With empty game bag down upon one knee
Inspecting them to make sure they were ripe
I picked them up and squeezed them carefully
Then on my sleeve, I'd give a gentle swipe
And if there's juice enough to leave a stripe
Then in the bag, how mom would be surprised
At least when I got home there'd be no gripe
Because no squirrels met with their demise
Persimmons make the sweetest of preserves
Especially the ones my mama serves
July 14 2017
Spenserian Sonnet
ABAB BCBC CDCD EE
squirrels- 2 syllables
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2017
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