oh my stars! oh my moon!
I can’t stand it! drives me crazy!
sour cherry bread pudding
little veins of custard everywhere
after this, i don’t want to live
anymore

sour cherry bread pudding
tilts my eating head back
seventy years
my mother’s sour cherry pies running my fingers over the dark bark,
climbing slowly up the living tree,
asking for permission to touch,
picking the cherries off gently
beautiful branches, no bruises,
no disrespect
dropping each cherry gently
into the soft canvas bag.
top, top juiciest cherries have
been tasted by the blackbirds
throwing angry chatter at me
invading their territory
it’s not my tree, it’s everyone’s tree.
i hand the bag(full of cherries)
down to my father,
he dumps the precious cargo
into one of the kitchen bowls
several bowl-fulls will make
several pies.

seventy years and the taste
is still alive
mother carefully pits each cherry
my father separates and washes them
as if they are precious pieces of gold.
sour cherry bread pudding
travels through decades as if all is now
the taste of my parents’ love
lives in cherry pies
is resurrected in sour cherry bread pudding

( for the bakers of Fillmore Bakeshop )