“Sonnet about prunes”

Upon the humble prune, I cast my gaze,  
A wrinkled jewel in velvet shadows laid;  
From dusky plums, transformed through sun’s warm rays,  
Thy sweetness deep as memories that fade.  

A bite—a burst of warmth in winter’s gloom,  
More velvet than the curtains of the night.  
Thou art both quiet solace and perfume  
That floats through kitchens, tender with delight.  

What tales of orchard breeze your spirit kept,  
While ripening above the rooted sprawl?  
Each summer afternoon that gently crept  
Is bottled now within your purple shawl.  

O prune, with wisdom in your gentle taste—  
You teach that time enriches, not lays waste.

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