Photo by Boris Oblak (Own work) [GFDL or CC BY-SA 4.0-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0], via Wikimedia Commons

I ate a persimmon for the first time this week.

Not all of one, just a bit. I shared it with my husband.

Someone brought this persimmon to work and left it in the communal kitchen as an offering. I accepted and took it home, having never tasted one before.

I wanted to taste because one of my favorite poems by one of my favorite poets is called “Persimmons.” The poet is Li-Young Lee, and “Persimmons” is the first poem of his that I ever read. I fell in love with it, and have fallen in love with many others by him since then.

I like the poem better than I liked the taste, although I liked the taste well enough. It’s a bit too sweet for me—unlike the poem, which is just right. It’s a gorgeous fruit, though, isn’t it?

By Haneburger (Own work) [GFDL or CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

2 thoughts on “Persimmons

  1. One of our favorite read-aloud books is called, “How Epossomondus Lost His Tail” (or something very similar), a rolickng tale about a tail, and an opossum, and a bear, and a love for persimmons. Begs to be read with accents.

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