The medlar tree is heavy with its load
Of golden brown and bletted fruits that wait
To be plucked and savoured, or bestowed
As gifts to those who love their sweet and tart taste.

Some make them into jams and jellies, or pies
And tarts that fill the air with spicy scent
Some dry them and preserve them, or devise
New ways to use them in experiments.

But I prefer to eat them as they are
And let their flavour linger on my tongue
They are like little suns that shine from far
And warm my heart with every bite and crumb.

The medlar tree is more than just a tree
It is a source of joy and poetry.

Poems and images Bing