Fresh Fruit for Breakfast

A poem for Billie Culy’s A Place to Be
KAUKAU, August 2021





small green pear
                                                       fruit bowl
                vase of tulips
                                                                           white textured wall        staircase

little yellow broom

                                    curved window
                 petal-shaped beams of light arching down
                                                                                        onto the table


In the winter, one year ago, we stayed in a little cottage in the countryside. Trucks drove past on the main road but on either side of the road were fields and fields of grass. Groups of daffodils sprouted on the lawn in front of the house; every morning covered in gentle frost.

Breakfast was at the round wood table, placed under French doors that opened out to the north-east. A small garden of overgrown plants ran along the fence line close to the doors. Morning sun glowed through the trees, through the glass doors, falling down in one golden wash over the table. We placed chairs around the table and a vase of sweet daphne in the centre. Steam rose off plates. It was a golden syrup, buttery, honey kind of breakfast in the fresh, cold air, and warm morning sun.




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                                    single lemon

shells

draped turquoise tablecloth

                                        jug of water

                                                                            wooden table



Over the years you gave me so many stones and shells but I have collected so many myself that I have forgotten which ones were from you. On the shores of a lake surrounded by beech forest we held smooth round stones the size of tomatoes and plums in our hands. We slept at night to the sound of waves and small beech leaves falling in a patter on the fabric of our tent.




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hazy purple walls       framed hillside painting: pear green grass, terracotta earth,                                                                                                         blue cotton sky

                            a plate of oranges             a shadow of tulips


In your garden, I lay in the grass under the fruit trees, as you collected large, heart-shaped peaches for us from the branches. The papery, round leaves of your apricot tree changed colours with the seasons: early green to honey-orange. We ate breakfasts under the apricot tree; the deck warm with sun and covered in drying leaves and apricot stones.




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peach walls                                potted geranium; its leaves reaching to the sun

tiny landscape painting:        a scooping hill, clusters of pink, the sun -
                                                                    a bright yellow glow in the sky
                   
              lace tablecloth                                   lemon                                blue mug

yellow lace curtain


                                        shell floor            white stool


In your flat overlooking the sparkling sea we had breakfast on the green couch and small coffee table, as sun warmed us through the lounge windows. One morning we ate pancakes outside in the sun; sitting on the wood bench, leaning up against the side of the locked shed. Next to us was your orchid in its terracotta pot. The smooth round stones cased in concrete were cool under our feet. In summer heat we lay under the feijoa trees on the grass slope that looked out toward the ocean. In autumn we collected and ate from the abundance of apples and feijoas falling from the trees.




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pink plastic cup holding jonquils

peaches                                        a shell                                                 a cloth

                                                                                glowing lilac horizon


The sky outside glowed apricot-peach for a few moments, just above the line of the hills, as sleet fell on an angle against the window panes.


  



































Copyright
Briana Jamieson
© 2021