I did a quick search to see if there were any poems about persimmons and turns out: there is.
The poet is responsible for the title of this post.
Above is a giant persimmon tree next to the chickens at my cousin’s house. I didn’t even ask so technically we stole them.
My neighbhor across the street also has persimmons and welcomed me to take some.
The light is weird in this picture. The little more orange ones in the back are from my cousin’s and the lighter ones are from across the street.
Mostly I just eat them with my breakfast but I also pulp a few and use them to make persimmon cookies for my husband. It is a nostalgia favorite for him.
