Memories of Plums

Spring

Stamens whisker-long,
tender as velveted paws,
calico-colored.

Summer

So many ripe, falling,
the ground slippery with stones,
the sweet scent of rot.

Fall

Leaves gnarled with bugbites,
rimmed at the edges with gold,
crisp cascade to earth.

Winter

The small old tree bent
black and grey against the snow.
Brittle, the twigs snapped.