And in the turning

Fifteen maybe twenty pears are in a glass dish on my table. They come from a tree my mother and father tend in Wisconsin. Take the fruit, they said, it will last until Christmas, until we see each other again. Next to their house a tree stumbles under clusters of pears. So many that they picked the fruit green. I have kept them only one day here in the sun and already their touch on each pear flared up yellow and red. So many pears. So many.

Share this story:

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...

Loading...

Save for later

Save
Cancel

Saved ( of items)

This item has been saved to read later from any device.
Access saved items through your user name at the top of the page.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You reached the limit of 20 saved items.
Please visit following link to manage you saved items.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You have already saved this item.

View Saved Items

OK