Pepper Rosé (revised)
When summer is sealed
in clusters of pink-red
pepper tree fruits,
I pick up one corn, smash it on my palm,
deeply inhale the aroma.
Taste buds swell the tongue
at the pungent-sweet promise and
it feels like some pagan
incense altar,
set for an equinoctial ceremony.
Briefly, youth returns in gusts,
grass blades rise to attention – I savour
my world, before it disperses.
(Jerusalem, September 22, 2011)
Pepper Rosé (original)
I love it when on pepper trees
clustered little fruits seal,
in pink-red,
the ending summer.
I pick up one corn, smash it on my palm
and deeply inhale the subtle oil,
freshly freed. It stirs my taste buds
which swell the tongue
at the mild-sweet promise.
It feels like nearing a pagan
incense altar,
set for an equinoctial ceremony.
Momentarily, youth returns in gusts,
grass blades rise to attention – and I savour
my wondrous world, before it's dispersed.