Found Peach

One muggy evening in early August

while navigating my familiar four-mile loop

I shopped for trees I might later purchase

to plant in my cottage garden.

I ran a steady 8 minute mile while my gaze was tangled dangerously

in the variegated canopy shading the uneven sidewalk.

On previous adventures this has resulted in sprained ankles.

Some things one never learns.

A dogwood? An elm? An oak or an ash?

I analyzed trunk texture and leaf shape

for aesthetically pleasing combinations.

Not a quarter of a mile from our Main Street home,

an adolescent peach tree hugged an alley in a sullen fashion.

Its back was pushed against the brick wall of a local preschool

as though avoiding notice.

Its leaves were empty canoes and

its scrawny branches were sagging with boredom and  fruit.

I stopped to sample a blushing golden orb.


The flesh gave way exquisitely to inquisitive teeth.

Fructose laced syrup bled down my chin,

a flawless liquor.

I glanced in surprise at the surly sapling.

It shrugged noncommittally

as though it hadn’t tried at all

to sculpt this perfect peach.

HS 8-18-2016


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