The Beauty in Blackcurrant Jam

Clare Morris

I do not wish for fame,
Its puffed-up pastries would prove too rich for my poor palate,
And as for the smorgasbord of cold meats and fine cheeses
That recognition proffers
On a platter that flatters
With calling card and gloved hand,
Leaving me wracked with doubt,
‘Must I eat everything, rind and all?’
No, that would be trop sophistiqué for my choosing.
But if one morning,
Just as the sun rises over the wheelie bins,
Warming their lids with parental care,
I heard a tap at the window, so quiet I thought I’d dreamt it,
And turning, saw a familiar face smiling there,
I would fling wide my door
And dispensing with the niceties of tablecloths (for really there is no need),
We would sit either side of the kitchen table,
The teapot between us, our conversation taking the easy ebb and flow of settled seas.
And we would feast on bread and butter and blackcurrant jam,
Which you had kindly made and saved for such an occasion as this,
Although not realising you had done so until you chose to visit
This very morning.
And we would take and eat and share our stories,
Content in the moment’s mood,
And being thus thrice-blessed,
Ask for nothing more.

Clare Morris is a writer and poet from Devon, UK. Having gained her BA in English Literature from University College, London and PGCE from Newman College, Birmingham, she became a full-time teacher. She gained her PhD from Exeter University, whilst teaching full-time. She has also worked as an editor for The Blue Nib and The Write Life. She enjoys contributing to Taking the Mic, a monthly open mic workshop for local poets. She collaborates regularly with abstract artist, Nigel Bird (, focusing on responses to the surrounding environment. They are looking forward to the publication of a joint pamphlet next year.



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