A Crate of Picked Peaches

 

dappled as summer’s sunset

blushed yellow & red, stacked

perfectly in a wooden crate

 

each rounded cheek boasts

fuzzy flesh, begs teeth

to sink into skin, savor

 

like Renoir’s velvet still 

tells a mouth-watering story

of sunshine rained sugar

 

stone fruits: big softballs, plump

water juicing glory

firm, but soft in hand

 

think of childhood sweetness

moments before waking

dimples upon pillows

 

magnificent and magnificence

individual and collective, all

uniform attentive spheres

 

each tree-ripened fruit

peaks at its sweetest tang

picked for this June moment 

 

sumptuous fragrance whisks me

to a fruit stand, my father selects 

treats for Sunday afternoons

 

what delight, gift of gods

to eat, peach juice dripping

liquid gold down my arms

 

June 26, 2021