Words: Jam

eight o’clock
zest and squeeze a lemon
enjoying the fresh scent
in the silent grey morning

three cups crushed strawberries
macerated with two cups sugar
left alone and forgotten
while having tea and toast
on the kitchen counter
old fashioned clock ticking
time to old heartbeat

bring to slow boil
stirring constantly
over medium heat
to keep from sticking
into burning black sugar
at the bottom of the pot
like the scrapings of my heart

watch the berries begin
to bubble from the heat
add the lemon zest and juice
preserving June memories
of deep red summer lips

watch the clock slip ahead
in quarter hour increments

ask yourself is this done?
is this thick enough?
watch the jam stick to spoon
in slow sliding plop
still stirring the pot
don’t let it burn
so close to being done

pour into jars
allow to cool down
to cap and refrigerate

eat at your pleasure alone;
or on scones with clotted cream.

Words: Stain

soft white cotton dress
crumbled in hamper

damp with mud and leaves
after April showers
from the roadside ditch
where we slipped and fell
with our bicycles.

riding back laughing
as our teeth chattered
against the spring breeze

fresh unripened sun
barely warm on skin
as we madly dashed
back home to strip down

and stand together
indulging in hot
steaming staccato
of the shower
as we touch.