An unexpected taste, this,
reminding me of Jordan almonds
and Saturday afternoon matinees,
chase scenes and faked gun fights,
and heros with white hats,
childhood memories.
Perfumy, bringing memories
of walking through the Rose Gardens at City Park,
Musky, sweet
in the hot humidity of a July afternoon,
sunlit flowerbeds surrounded by trees,
ancient Live Oaks,
Spanish moss,
and memories.
The fragrant jelly sits redly in the spoon,
like so many syrups of lesser quality --
red like fake cherry or strawberry,
yet steeped in centuries of lore,
good for cough,
good for pain,
good for love.
I vaguely wonder if he'd like it on his ice cream
then put the jar away.