The Plums

The plums
were dark purple
under the summer sun
I reached up
big and round and firm
I picked a basket full
after I bit into one
and juicy and sweet
it was
the basket rested
by the window
in the kitchen
and after I had my fill
the remainder
slowly dried
and it was late July
when I rediscovered
my harvest
now shriveled prunes
and to my delight
even sweeter
than before
as I opened
the back door
holding the basket
and spitting the pits
onto the bed
of white roses.