They Will Tempt
They Will Tempt
Once a throbbing starts
in the sap of the quince pear,
the tree beside the milk barn
at one corner of the calf lot,
fruit grows from green
to brown, its brown thick
skin then waiting to burst.
Propelling through
the pears—a desire
to fall with ripeness.
Don’t bother twisting
their stems, plucking. Until
they fall of their own accord,
you’ll find their pithy flesh
absent of grainy goodness,
your jaws puckering
from pears’ revolt.
Melva Sue Priddy