Cherry Tree

Zib Zab Zabata

Play

Boy you jus las you seed right dey

its me turn to trow me seed

I gat two dozen more I need

Pan top me roof

Me will lef them dry

If you pass doant cut you eye

Me will roast dem

Pound dem

And yet dem too

Me belly full

Look pan poory you

I forgot how the conversation came about but the other day we were at my in-laws and I reflected on how I miss the days we use to pick cherries (the fruit of the cashew.) The cherries can be yellow or red. I remarked how juicy they always were. They were so juicy that the juice would literally pour down my hands – it was delicious. The juice would always stain our clothes

(I can visualize those cherry trees loaded with yellow cherries in my great grandmother’s yard under those huge black boulders. Those boulders resembled the ones at Stonehenge, except they were round and on a hill overlooking the house. We always thought maybe one day an earthquake would release the boulders and smash the house into pieces.)

My mother-in-law was amazed at my experience and being a plant enthusiast she asked me to describe how the cherry tree looks. Etched in my mind was that particular experience, I could literally taste the cherries and remembered playing zib zab zabata in the dirt as a child and climbing on the roof to dry the seeds in the sun. I emailed my cousin Wayne for a picture of a cashew tree. I did not recall the cherries were actually in season; what perfect timing.