WHITE CURRANTS
One thousand five hundred seventy-six stems,
plucked by hand from the bush net protected
against birds with eye lust for first fruits.
Eighty minutes later, plus another few
to wash and drain, then for the arduous task
of stripping berries, one to fourteen per stem,
destined for the used once a year jamming pot;
after three hours they settle cosily
for an overnight simmer, scent subtly unmasked.
In the morning ruby succulent liquid,
still tart, drips gradually through the straining cloth,
reluctant to leave its close associates
of last night's frolic.
Watch the bubbles precariously dance the rim
as the wooden spoon patterns the figure of eight,
ancient symbol completing the alchemy
to produce five small jars of sun stored essence:
the bush's legacy, a day's labour, bounty for a king.
Kaaren Whitney
Lammas 2006
