take so long to fall off the limbs and reveal ripe orange globes nearly ready to eat. All I need to do is wait, and remember, December. Not November, maybe a few.
Recalling the bare branches and the soft ripened fruit, that I never grew up with, makes me impatient to scoop the tasty flesh into my yogurt, better than any ice-cream I've ever tasted,
on toast the best jam I've ever eaten, and on ice-cream a heavenly treat. Not always so. If you've eaten an unripe persimmon you can loose the enamel off your teeth.
You won't forget the shock your tastebuds recoil from. But not now. I know how to test them. I just can't wait, that's all. And now they are almost gone.
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