A ripe peach
Can you sense the pebbles
In the road that passes by
The old tree? Hear the birds that
Pluck away a few blossoms
And feed their nestlings wriggling larvae?
In the skin can you smell the
Summer mornings, heat rising
With the fog from the fields,
The sun a burnished version
Of the fruit, hung high? In
Its velvet touch, do you feel the
Rabbit’s twitching ear, the down of
A thousand dandelions carpeting
The grass? When it touches your lips
Do you taste life’s compass?