Lindsey Grant

THE FRUIT CELLAR

Sweet must fills the dim
And shadowed netherworld
Of crates and Ball jars

Row upon row of empty
Bushel baskets, gloves, pickers
All abandoned to another age

An age of ripe abundance
Of glorying in our bounty
And stocking up for the morrow

What comes of this place?
Where no fruit lays and
What usefulness remains?

A mother then is obliged
To dwell there, for a time
Amid must and reminiscence
Of yesterday

“Norman, Norman!
Don’t you put me in that fruit cellar,
Norman. You think I’m fruity, do you?
Norman!?”


Lindsey reads "The Fruit Cellar":



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Lindsey confesses: "Drawn from personal memory of my own grandmother's fruit cellar and from the classic Hitchcock film, this poem has both a sentimental and dark edge, but hopefully, will be greeted with the unexpected humor as intended."

LINDSEY GRANT is an elder from Portland, Oregon, who practices self-care and self-enhancement by engaging in activities of creative expression in Words, Sounds, and Images.