The Penitent Plum Poacher
I must love Him, but fear His wrath. Heading home, I reflected on what I became that day: the penitent plum poacher
Stealing fruit from Jaybird’s orchard was risky, but like Adam and Eve I succumbed to irresistible temptation, climbed a tree, and filled my pockets with sweet, juicy plums, dismissing the theft’s severity by assuming the old black man wouldn’t miss the few I plucked. While shinnying down, I came face to face with him. “Gotcha!” he said.
The punishment was swift and painful, rendering well-striped buttocks. Tossing aside the willow switch, he said, “I hope you enjoy those plums.” For a while, I dearly hated the man who was my boyhood best friend and mentor.
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