I no longer have to share my peach
not even this, large and ripe as a Red Sox baseball
ready to play
leather smooth and fine in my hand
Glowing yellow slips and drips
its plum red core
creamy across my tongue
but the pleasure is somewhat wanting
I should be happy
to have this fruit
all to myself
sitting on my shelf, no longer at risk
of succumbing to other hands
hands that would take it to mouth and bite into flesh
without even thinking of sharing
Those hands would quickly be empty of peach
and full of its satisfaction
while I, complaining, though only in fun
would go and buy another
I never really minded
His pleasure pleased me
as much as the peach
pleased him
Now I have my own peach
carefully pitted and sliced
placed on earthenware inside up
blushing towards the sun
waiting for me to enjoy all by myself, all to myself
with no one to claim the bigger half
~ * ~
Last week’s bowl of ripe Skagit cherries
departed, silent with the season
that I never noticed leaving
The bowl sits on my counter, a barren vessel
If only I’d tasted one more rich orb
before having to wait for next year’s crop
knowing this was the best we’ve ever had
realizing the miracle of ripened fruit
If only I’d enjoyed a little longer
spitting the pits across the garden
one more time
The only thought that hovers now
like an uninvited guest
is that no one is here to share the bowl
or to challenge me, seeing if I could spit the pit
further than him
~ * ~ * ~ *
Submitted with many thanks for their service to writers to the following:
Poetry Pantry at: http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2011/09/poetry-pantry-is-now-open-67.html#comment-form AND
Poetry Picnic Week 5 – Jingle’s New Poetry Place!
http://gooseberrygoespoetic.blogspot.com/2011/09/poetry-picnic-wk-5-object-thing-form.html
You must be logged in to post a comment.