Poem of the Day

This Is Just To Say
by William Carlos Williams
I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so cold ________________________________ This poem always makes me smile. It is simple, playful,  and conjures a memory of mine. When I was a little girl, my  Hungarian grandmother used to make homemade jam from fresh fruit:  plums, apricots, peaches, and strawberries. She would neatly stack  each fruit's preserves in an old-fashioned glass jar on a shelf in her pantry. She even organized them by the specific fruit so that when all  jars of jam were stacked, it looked like a rainbow of vibrant reds,  purples, and peaches. A true country vision, though she lived in a Hungarian city. This was her hobby. When family members would visit,  there would be plenty of jam from which to choose to spread on fresh artisan  bread, toast, kiflis (Hungarian style crescent rolls), scoop onto vanilla ice cream,  or simply eat several spoonfuls, my favorite version. The plum jam was especially tasty - sweet and tart.