there is an old fig tree
at the back of the family garden
and at the end of a long hot summer
it is dripping with fruit

we picked figs today
ripe and soft
some we broke open
and ate
some fell to the ground
and burst

with sticky hands
we filled a bag in minutes
plenty left for the birds

we drank tea and talked
catching up on recent weeks
sharing stories, laughing
supporting each other’s dreams
without question

it took an hour and a half to drive home
and by then
the sky had clouded

I take time opening the bag
and arranging the figs
each one a precious harvest

I break one open

and sunlight fills the kitchen

© Claire Griffin 2016

2 thoughts on “figs

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