Words can create magic and I want to get lost in them for some part of each day.

November 1, 2010

Custard Apple

Coarse knobby pale green carapace
Hiding creamy soft deliciousness
A velvety fragrant sweetness fills my mouth
As my tongue teases out the flesh
From the many shiny black seeds.

And I am lost in a reverie ...
Of  cool autumn days;
Spent scrambling for custard apples ripening on the trees
Pip-shooting matches
To see who had the strongest cheeks!!

And then I think
All these noble trees and their humble fruit
Are so much a part of me
Just as the sticky gelatinous sweetness
That enmeshes the custard-apple seeds .

Fruits which were never bought
But which were hunted and fought
for with a wild glee-mostly after
a lazy swim in the river's generous waters.
Which my swimming-pooled kids whose joys are sold in the market will never comprehend.


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